The Red Carnation
by nemaara
Summary: Flowers can mean many things. Some are supposed to bring good luck. Others bring spring and youth. She, however, always kept that one special flower for another reason entirely. AU. Beast Boy/Raven. Rated M for subject matter.
1. Lilac

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans

I told someone I'd write a BB/Rae story, and I also had a bit of inspiration today, so here's a little story about them. I'm not sure I'll do more than one chapter, but I might depending on if people want me to and if I have time. Let me know what you think.

* * *

Garfield Logan stared.

It wasn't that he had never seen it before, nor did flowers usually catch his attention. He walked this way every day when he returned from class. He must've passed it at least a hundred billion times. It should have been just passing scenery, no more.

So why? Why had he only noticed it now?

Behind a neat, tiny little house and surrounded by a short, white fence, there was garden of flowers. Okay, so, well he saw flowers every day. Big deal.

But they weren't flowers like these! They didn't have the same, deep, evocative colors like these flowers. And normally, they didn't grow in such abundance. For another thing, every flower in eyesight was violet.

 _So whoever lives here has a thing for violet. 'Kay. Whatever. Not my business. They're just flowers._

Somehow, though, he just couldn't take his eyes off of them.

Sweeping a lock of blonde hair out of his eyes, he walked over to the fence door and pulled on it. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. _Oh. Guess I'm not supposed to go on. Oh well._

Well, that was the end of that.

...

 _Just kiddin'. Like a little fence is gonna stop me._ _But wait. Won't it be like... like... what's that word? Uh, trespassing? Yeah, that._

"Hmm..."

 _Eh. You know what they say. Gotta stop 'n smell the roses. Not that there's any roses here, but, who cares! I'm not gonna do anythin' bad. I just wanna see what it's like inside. No harm in that._

Whistling quietly, Garfield put his hands on the top of the fence and swung his legs over. He landed on a small patch of grass. _Boy, that was close. Not a lotta space to move around. Gotta be careful._

He looked around.

A the edges of the garden, the flowers were a little sparser and brighter in color. Patterned strings of pale violet emerged from the emerald greens of shrubs and other small plants. As he looked inward, the bushes were taller and the flowers grew gradually darker, from light mauve, to a dark plum. Inside, the flowers looked a little more delicate and well guarded by the bushes, like little buds of violet peeking out from the cover of verdigris leaves. Even farther in, the bushes came up to almost his height, grown in a small circle around the center.

Part of him wanted to stay and look longer, but then part of him was impatient and didn't really want to get caught. _Gotta move._

He walked carefully toward the bushes, taking care not to disturb anything. There was a little space in the bushes, just big enough for him to squeeze through. Inside, sunlight and shadows drew a quietly shifting pattern across a bed of violet leaves of mixed hue. He looked toward the very center, then tilted his head in surprise. In the very middle, a single red carnation emerged from the sea of violaceous color surrounding it.

Cast in deep red, it stood alone. Somehow, the plant had only sprouted one.

Garfield took a short breath, then turned away. _Damn. I wanted some for when I visited my parents, but definitely can't take that one. There's a lot more on the outside, though. Whoever owns this place probably wouldn't miss 'em if I just took a couple._

 _But that's kinda mean..._

 _Yeah, but they're for mom. And these flowers are super good._

 _Still not cool._

 _But mom really liked flowers. Especially purple ones._

 _Dude, you can't just go takin' other peoples' stuff. Besides, what if some really big, buff guy owns this place?_

 _Like a big buff guy would bother growin' flowers. It's obviously a girl._

 _And that makes it better?_

 _It'll only be a couple. Come on, it's not that bad. It's-_

"Excuse me?" A finger tapped him on the shoulder.

He turned immediately. Sheepish green eyes met a _slightly_ irritated pair of violet ones. Garfield tried to step back, but a pair of pale hands caught his wrists and held him in place.

"Stop moving. You'll crush them."

He turned back. "Oh. Right. Yeah. My bad." Garfield looked back forward.

The girl standing in front of him was rather short - he knew, because she only came up to his shoulders, and he wasn't exactly tall either. It wasn't just that, though. She was very pale, almost like she hadn't seen the sun in years, and she was very petite, although the surprisingly strong grip on his wrists told him that she was not weak.

Her hair fell around her shoulders in soft, silky cascades of raven black. And her face...

"What are you doing here?" She snapped at him. "I locked that fence for a reason. Most people have the common sense to not just barge in."

Garfield shrugged. "Was just lookin'."

She released her grip on him and pinched the bridge of her nose. He kept staring. Despite the slight irritation marring her expression, her face was kind of pretty. Okay, maybe she wasn't the hottest girl he had ever seen, but the soft curves and angles to her angular face did give her a feminine quality that contrasted starkly with the slim, boyish figure of her body.

"Looking? _Looking?_ " Her voice turned into a hiss. "And what, exactly are you looking at?" She put a finger under his chin and tilted his eyes back up to her face.

"O-oh. I was, um..."

"You pig. Keep your eyes _off_ of me."

He scratched the back of his head. Alright, maybe it was his fault a little bit, but she _did_ have a bit of an attitude. "Look. One, I wasn't checkin' you out or anything. No offense, but it's not like you got a lot to show anyway."

Crimson tainted her pale cheeks. Somehow, despite the growing anger in her eyes, it made her look... cute?

"Are you calling me flat?"

"No, no no, no. I'm sayin' you're not my type. I like blondes. And tall girls. And girls with big boobs- ah- err..."

She wrinkled her nose. It looked like she was trying very hard to keep from hitting him. "Just leave."

"Wait, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you. I was just curious!"

"You have ten seconds to get out of here. Ten."

"Dude, I'm tryin' to be nice-"

"Nine."

"I wasn't even doin' anything-"

"Eight."

"You're actually okay looking!"

"Seven."

"I thought your garden looked really cool!"

"Six."

"I just wanted a couple of flowers."

Her eyes widened a little. She stepped on his foot, then start up at him. Despite the height difference, she seemed very menacing somehow. "And you were going to take them without even asking me. You were going to _rob_ me."

 _Dude, I told you this was a bad idea! And you made it worse by calling her flat! How are you gonna get out of this now?_

"I, uh..."

"I should call the police on you."

"No! Wait, wait. I just wanted two. 'Cause, well..."

"Yes?"

 _Just tell her the truth._

 _No way, that's private! I can't just tell that to a stranger..._

 _Yes, but you also broke into a stranger's place and the first word outta your mouth was makin' fun of her._

"Um, I wanted 'em formymom," he blurted out the last few words rapidly.

She raised an eyebrow, but the tense anger in her face faded a little. Green eyes met violet ones again. His shimmered brightly, glowing like sparkling pools of emerald. Hers were strikingly violet, dark and mysterious, withdrawn and reserved. She drew a little closer, the deep pair of amethysts piercing into him.

Actually, when she thought about it more closely, his eyes were not so bright after all. There were little currents of emotion running underneath... what were they? He was nervous. No surprise there. He was... afraid? He was hiding something. He wasn't being totally truthful, but at the same time, it wasn't a malicious sort of deceit either. He really did want those flowers.

"For your mother," the violet eyed girl repeated slowly. "I see. That makes more sense. You aren't the type to like flowers."

 _She's creepy. Feels like she can tell what I'm thinkin'. That's kinda weird._

"Come this way."

"Wait, what-"

She tugged on his arm, leading him back through the shrubbery. Taking out a pair of small scissors, she ran her slender, pale fingers over one of the plants, then clipped away a couple strands of lilac and held them out to him [1].

"Really? You sure that's okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Look. You seem to have a decent reason for wanting these. I have no idea why you don't just buy flowers from the store, but-"

"Expensive. And yours are wayyyyy better."

Faint crimson tinged her cheeks again. "Regardless, I would have much preferred if you had just asked. I put in a lot of work to take care of these. While I do not mind if they are put to good use... I would _prefer_ if you didn't just walk in and steal without my permission."

Garfield rubbed the back of his head, grinning. "Yeah, sorry. Look, I don't have money on me right now, but I'll make sure to pay ya back-"

"It's fine." She turned away. "You probably don't have a lot of money anyway."

"You sure?" _Whoa. Even though she looked real mad earlier, she's actually super nice! Maybe she's not so bad after all._ "And how would you know somethin' like that?"

"Because you always dress shabbily and your lunches are always small."

 _..._

He seized her shoulders. She shuddered a bit and broke the touch, looking a little irritated again.

"What?"

"How would you know that?"

Violet eyes blinked, a little surprised. "I'm in a couple of your classes."

 _What? I've never even seen her before._ "... really?"

"Yes, really. I know I don't stand out, but it's been a whole semester..."

"Ah, sorry. Guess I didn't look hard enough." He stuck his hand out. "Name's Garfield. Garfield Logan."

She stared. A couple moments passed in silence. "As cool as you are trying to make yourself sound, it only makes you seem like an idiot."

"Hey! I actually get good grades!"

The insult stung for a moment, but the grin never left his face. Something about her posture and the way she said it made it seem like she didn't really mean it. _Like, I mean, after her whole 'Miss Angry Face' earlier and threanin' to call the police, she still ended up givin' me the flowers. She's actually a lot nicer than she looks. She just talks rough._

He retracted his hand. "So..."

"I'm Rachel."

She took a little breath, then bit her lip awkwardly. The slight slump of her shoulders and the drab darkness of her clothing completely changed the aura around her once again. It was shyer now, demure and reserved. Despite her lack of curves and the emotionless mask of her face, somehow she seemed... pretty?

 _Nah. Get your head on straight, Logan! You're just thinkin' that 'cause you've been single for too long. And you owe her a little somethin' for the flowers. She's way not your type._

"Right. Anyway, I better get goin'. Thanks for the flowers. Really, thanks a lot. I owe ya one."

Rachel rolled her eyes again. "Just don't step on anything on your way out."

"Right. Oh yeah, one more thing."

"Yes?"

"Was just wonderin', why're all the flowers here purple besides that red one in the center?"

The dark haired girl turned away. "I'm waiting for something special to happen. I want to keep the carnation for then. The red one, in case you didn't know."

"Hmm. 'Kay. Well, see ya in class."

 _She's got a lotta secrets. Figures. Well, not my business! Gotta get goin'._

"Bye."

* * *

 _Morning_

Dawn broke. The sun worked its way across the sky, casting its golden glow over the land. A couple hours passed, then clouds began to roll in, covering the heavens with a shroud of dark grey. A small drizzle of rain began to fall.

...

Rachel stretched her arms, then grabbed her phone. _11\. Woke up late. But, it's the weekend, so whatever._

She got out of bed, spent a bit of time in the bathroom, then went down to her garden. She looked up at the sky. _Rain, huh. I won't have to water today, then. Hmm, then what should I do today? Classes don't start until two weeks from now, so I've got a lot of free time. Maybe I'll go out..._ _hmm..._

"Hmm..." Rachel put a finger to her lips.

 _But the problem is, I don't really have any friends to go out with. And going out alone... it wouldn't be bad, if people wouldn't look at me funny. Or if guys didn't just try to randomly hit on me. Maybe staying at home is better._

The rain began falling harder. It soaked through her hair and clothes as she stood there, lost in thought. Rachel heaved a little sigh, then began wandering around her garden. It was an abundance of verdant life, the myriad hues of violet and green mixed in a quiet, melancholic mosaic in the falling rain. The soft pitter patter of the water formed a steady rhythm against the assorted aromas of the lavender, and lilac, and all of the other flowers... it was serene, and peaceful, a safe haven from the otherwise frantic city life.

Rain floated gently by, caressing her skin in its cool embrace. The petals of the flowers were silky and smooth. Violet and grey brought a tinge of gloom to the garden, but then, she didn't really mind. It was all her life had ever been, after all.

Memories came back briefly. There were screams and blood, the brute force of heavy blows raining down on her body, the bright blade of a knife, and-

She closed her eyes and shut it out.

Her breath came out in short, low gasps.

Without realizing it, her feet had taken her to the center of her garden. She knelt by the red carnation in the center, reached a hand out toward it, and-

 _No._

Rachel drew her hand back. She turned away. The memories came back.

There was so much blood, but it wasn't her own. There was so much pain, aching muscles and broken bones. The fading gasps of faltering breathing and the awful, hoarse death rattle echoed through her ears. She was pinned against the ground. Rough fingers fumbled at her waist, and suddenly she was bare, blood dripping down all over her naked skin. Above her, the _demon_ chuckled darkly at the fear etched on her face, relishing her helplessness.

She had to run. She ran and ran. His shouts were permeated with murderous intent behind her. Her head throbbed painfully and her legs felt like jelly, but she couldn't stop. He was right behind her. The _demon's_ voice was wicked and depraved in her ears. He was on top of her. There was more pain, and more blood... and then blazing sirens and blinding lights... and relief. Bells tolled in the distance.

 _Ding._

The chimes in the nearby church struck twelve.

"Whoa. You're soaked."

Abruptly, the rain above her head stopped. She turned, a little surprised. Dark, almost black irises met a shining pair of green ones.

"Um... you okay? Something happen?"

Rachel shook her head. "I'm... fine. Why are you here?"

Something about the pained expression marring her face tore at his heart. She was obviously very good at hiding it, but he _knew_ that expression like the back of his hand. There was no mistaking it. _It's the same. She looks like I did, when both mom and dad died. Wait. Don't tell me-_

"Rachel. What's wrong?"

"It's not your business," she snapped. "I'm fine. Are you going to answer my question?"

Irritation bubbled up. "Dude. I'm just concerned."

"I realize that. However, I am fine."

"Right..."

 _Guess she doesn't trust me. Figures. Wait. Why the hell do I care anyway? She's basically just a stranger, right? I barely even know her... yeah, but I'd be kind of a dick if I didn't even try to help her after seein' that face. I guess I should at least try 'n cheer her up. She looks so sad._

"Well anyway, hey. Here, I brought ya somethin'," Garfield held out a little package to her.

Rachel frowned. "For..?"

"For the flowers. I always pay my debts."

"Oh. But I told you... you didn't have to."

"I wanted to. Open it."

She opened it tentatively. Inside, there was a little, glass figurine, formed into the shape of a raven and tinged faintly violet.

"Went to the glass shop this mornin'," Garfield beamed at her. "Made it with my own two hands. Was lucky to find some of these moulds lying around. I thought it was pretty and you might like it for your garden-"

"Thank you," Rachel's murmured very softly. _It's like the one mother gave me._ Her lips trembled. "I don't deserve this."

 _Damn, she's gettin' all moody again. She's so different than she was yesterday. How the hell 'm I supposed to deal with this? Uh... how do you even cheer girls up?_

"Hey, a man's gotta give a pretty gift to a pretty girl."

Her eyes snapped up. "You already called me flat yesterday and said I wasn't your type. And man? Don't flatter yourself."

"My tastes change quickly, okay? Sheesh." Garfield's stomach rumbled loudly at that exact moment. "Speakin' of tastes..."

"You haven't eaten yet?"

"Nah. Wanted to drop this off first. You?"

"I have not partaken in anything either."

"Right... so, wanna get lunch then?"

Surprise flitted through Rachel's eyes. Garfield tilted his head.

"What, I say somethin' bad?"

"No... no... yes, I would not mind. Where did you want to go?" _Yes, this is what normal people do, after all. It's sometimes hard to be alone forever._

"Uh, there's a new pizza place down the street. You like pizza?"

"Of course. Just let me change first-" Rachel sighed. "-no, you cannot watch."

"Aww, okay. I'll be waitin' here then."

The dark haired girl walked back toward her house. She passed briefly by the carnation at the center of her garden, and the tiniest of smiles touched her lips.

* * *

[1] Look up what lilacs symbolize, if you are interested.

A/N: So, should I make more?


	2. Allium

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans

Watch out for a bit of language here and there. College students like Garfield are known to be at least a little foul-mouthed...

Also, anyone want to point me to some Beast Boy/Raven stories? I want to get a feel for the pairing, in case I want to keep going with this story.

* * *

"Yo. What'cha got there?"

"Flowers."

"... right. I can see that."

Rachel swept her dark hair out of her eyes, peering at him darkly from under her sun hat. "Why are you here?"

"Dunno. Thought you'd get lonely without me around."

"Tch." The pale girl brought out a few more pots, adjusted her hat, then began digging holes in the soil with a little shovel. "Right now, it seems like you're the one who's lonely..."

"Nah. I got two roommates. They're out right now, though."

"So why don't you go bother them?"

 _'Cause Victor's bein' an ass again, duh. Man just can't see the perks of being vegetarian. Doesn't know what he's missin' out on. Whatever._

"Don't feel like it. Say, you want some help? I've planted flowers before."

"Have you?"

"Yeah. Got me a nice rose bush at my place."

"Really," Rachel's voice was as dry as ever.

"Yep. So, where you want these? Over here-"

"Garfield," she stood suddenly, glaring harder than ever. "It is already bad enough that you are bothering me. But you will _not_ just go wandering around my garden alone. You understand?"

Somehow, with her standing like that and him crouched on the ground, he felt like a little kitten under her glare... even though he was supposed to be quite a bit taller than her. But right now, it didn't feel that way at all. Garfield gave off a little squeak, then set the pot back down.

"But you let me before..."

"I did not."

"Buuuut... you didn't flip out-"

"I was lenient the first time."

"Awww..." he hit her with the old 'puppy eye' look.

Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose. "Garfield. You... ugh. This is giving me a headache."

"C'mon Rae-"

"And my name is Rachel. I don't know where you came up with that awful nickname, but you will not shorten it out of laziness."

"Fine. Rachel. I just wanna help."

The dark haired girl put her hands on her hips. "And I would accept your help because..?"

"Isn't it boring to do this all alone? 'sides, saves ya some work."

"... I suppose you have a point." Rachel carefully took out one of the plants from the pot. "Look. If you want to help, fine. But in that case, I have to set a couple rules first."

"Sure."

"One, don't randomly destroy my flowers. Obviously. Two, if you want any of them, ask first. Three, you will not go near my carnation, and you will not ask for it either."

"Duh. Obviously."

"And four, you will never go into that corner of my garden," Rachel pointed toward her little house.

In one of the corners, there were several bushes surrounding something, but it was hidden from view by the densely packed leaves. There was a little opening that she might've been able to fit into, but he was too big for it. _Looks cool. Wonder what's in there._

"Do you hear me?"

"Err, yes ma'am."

"What will you not do?"

"I won't go over there."

"Good. Now as you can see, these are _Allium aflatunense._ [1]"

"Uh..."

"A type of violet flower. They don't like to have _too_ much sun, and they also don't like having too much water. That's why we're growing them here, near the bushes."

"Makes sense. They'll get a bit of shade, and other flowers'll get the water first when it rains and whatnot."

"Not as dumb as you look. Good."

"Hey!"

Rachel's lips curved up very slightly. She dug a the hole in the ground a little deeper, carefully placed one of the plants in, then patted the soil loosely around it. "When you plant it, don't put too much force or you will harm it. Just pack it enough so that it doesn't move around. Easy enough to understand?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay. Here's a shovel. Space them out. We'll plant them in a semi circle facing the street."

He nodded.

 _Geez. Like just talkin' to her, you know she's smart, but does she have to be so stuck up about it? Blegh. It's fine. Don't get worked up about it. Just feels like she acts like she's perfect or something and other people are just like dirt on her shoe._ Garfield sighed and looked up.

She looked up as well, noticing his gaze on her.

"Uh, just watching how you're doin' it. To make sure I get it right."

"You're doing fine. Just keep going."

He looked back down. _Man she's observant. Can't just stare._ Green eyes shifted to the side a little.

She was dressed in mostly dark colors, long sleeves covering her arms and legs completely. Her face was mostly in the shadows of her hat, and what little skin showed was very pale, if only tanned the slightest bit from her work in the garden. Squatting down in that position, she was once again the tiny girl she was supposed to be, not the menacing witch she looked like when she was glaring at him. Her wrists and ankles were extremely delicate - he fancied that he could break her in half if he applied just a little too much force. But then again, having felt just how strong her grip was, it would have been bad to assume that she was that weak either. She just didn't look like it.

Underneath the brim of her hat, her smooth face was expressionless, as usual. He decided that the small, angular features of her face were a little too plain and a little too gloomy, but then again, the odd color and luster of her violet eyes more than made up for it. Yep, despite her drab, unassuming appearance, she was't exactly unattractive. _Well, least she's not ugly._

 _Dude, stop judgin'._

 _Hey man, if I'm gonna try to be friends with her, I gotta figure this out._

 _Gotta figure what out?_

 _So it's like, you could hang out with a hot girl who's a bitch. Or, you could hang out with someone who doesn't look that great, but who's really nice or whatever. But if you're like, not pretty and you're also kinda an asshole, then..._

 _That's pretty shallow. You don't even know what she's like on the inside._

 _True. Dunno if she'd share that, though. She just doesn't seem like she knows how to talk to people._

The blonde haired boy looked back. Rachel was standing, looking all around at the mosaic of violet and green hues patterned around her garden. Her movements were gentle and graceful, a stark contrast to the harsh tones that she usually spoke with. _'Kay, well not exactly harsh, but she's a bit mean._

"Garfield."

"Wha-"

"Are you done? I need to water them."

"Oh, right. Yeah, go ahead."

He stood and watched as she bent down. In that position, her small frame was much more apparent. But then again, actually, she was almost just about the right height for cuddling - _whoa. What the hell. Where'd that come from? Keep it together, Logan! Focus on something else!_

He tore his eyes away, instead, looking at the garden.

It was serene. Here, the sun cast a soft, warm glow over the verdant plants, bequeathing the fullest sense of tranquility to the gently blowing wind. The scent of the flowers permeated the air with a pleasant mixture of aromas. Despite the irregular patterns of mauve and amethyst upon the backdrop of emerald greens, there was a sort of unity to the colored patchwork of flora. The breeze was a soft caress on his skin, the sounds of drizzling water and quiet breathing forming a steady rhythm in the otherwise silent afternoon.

He looked down, toward the flowers they had just planted.

On her side, the violet Allii had been placed in nearly perfectly even spaces, each stalk bent a little perfectly cast between shade and sunlight. The bulbs of tiny violet flowers sparkled with faint light, looking as if they were almost glowing. It was almost as if she had measured out the distance between them, figured out exactly how to coax the color out of them, and just somehow made them look fuller and healthier than they had been before. It was magic.

And on his side... well, she wouldn't be pleased with it. _But at least I didn't break anything!_

Standing back, Rachel let out a low breath and put a hand to her back. Even that movement had a certain amount of elegance and grace to it. Sure, she wasn't pretty type of girl he usually looked for. But there was an air about her that was delicate and gentle... at least until she opened her mouth again.

"You tried, at least."

Okay, so her critique could have been worse.

"Yeah, my bad. Don't spend all day in a garden, unlike some people."

 _Oops._ Garfield covered his mouth. _Didn't mean for that to come out. Now I'm gonna get it. Ahhh, she's gonna beat my ass._

He covered his eyes and waited.

...

Nothing happened. He peeked between his fingers.

Surprisingly, she just gave him a rueful, exasperated look before walking away.

 _Uh._

 _Did I make her mad?_

 _Logan, you're heartless. Ya don't just insult people like that!_

 _C'mon, I didn't mean it in a bad way. I was just playin'. 'sides, she's insulted me way more than that. Don't tell me she can't take any of her own medicine._

 _Still, that was rude._

"Garfield."

Green eyes blinked. The pale girl was holding out a bit of money to him. "For your help. You taking it or not?"

"Wait, but I didn't even-"

She rolled her eyes. "Let's be real. I live alone in a somewhat decent house, I have my own garden, and I basically have no obligations to anyone. You, on the other hand, dress in janky clothes all day, I have never seen you eat anything but junk, and you're always looking for deals at the flea market."

"Oh, so you've seen me there, haha-"

"Yes. You stand out. The point is, you need the money. You poor hobo."

 _Was that... a joke?_

"You might want to close your mouth before all the hot air leaves your head."

"Yeah? Well you might wanna go out sometime before people think you're a ghost."

"Oooh, spooky. At least I don't have the brain of a monkey."

"Least I don't have a giant stick up my ass. You're as stiff as a like... an old hag!"

"And you are as childish as a five year old."

"Yeah? Yeah? Well, uh... hey, at least I'm not flat!"

She looked _slightly_ abashed at that statement, but only just a little. "At least I don't go around ogling other people like some pervert."

"Hey, at least I have a girlfriend."

"Liar."

He held his hands up. "Right, right, you got me. Was it that obvious?"

"A guy like you would never be able to get a girl."

"And a girl like you would never be able to make friends."

Now _that_ shut her up. The slightly cocky smirk on her mouth quickly faded.

 _Uh oops._

 _You idiot. You went way too far with that one. Now she's seriously pissed. Oh god, she's gonna kill me._

"Err, umm... sorry, I didn't mean-"

"Just take it and go."

"R-right. Rachel, I didn't-"

She pushed him toward the fence door. Under her hard glare, Garfield gulped and opened it, stepping outside. She closed it behind him and locked it. Violet and green eyes met over the fence. Before he could turn away, however, she grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer.

Rachel's voice was a whisper in his ear. "I can take an insult. You are lucky I knew you did not mean that seriously."

"Y-you did? O-ohh..."

"Yes, despite what you may think of me, I am rather good at deciphering other peoples' emotions," she let him go. "So, would you like to come back tomorrow and help me plant another set of flowers?"

"S-sure! What time?"

"Three. In the afternoon."

"Okay. Rae, I'm sorry if I hurt your-"

Her brow furrowed. "Rachel."

"But Rae sounds so cool-"

"Doesn't matter. Say my name properly."

Garfield sighed. "Rachel."

"Good. Now, you were saying?"

"Agh! I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings! Okay? Sheeesh."

She reached up and patted him on the head. "See you tomorrow."

He watched as Rachel turned away and walked back into her house. Grumbling under his breath, he started walking home as well.

 _God damn. She's even worse than I thought she was._

Still, he couldn't help but smile a little at the thought of going back for at least one more day.

* * *

[1] Allium flowers are associated with perfection and elegance.

A/N: I confess that I have not really written Beast Boy as a character before, so it may take some time to work out the kinks in portraying his personality.


	3. Anemone

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Teen Titans

The first scene in this chapter is a little dark. Be warned.

* * *

 _"Get away from me!" A woman's voice screamed._

 _Above her, an enormous shape loomed in the darkness. He said nothing, heavy breathing marking each footstep as he drew closer._

 _"Stop!"_

 _"And why should I, my dear Arella?"_

 _In the dim light, his eyes were nearly vermilion in color, glinted with demonic energy. A figure shifted below him, backing away slowly._

 _"You seem to forget something. I make the rules in this house. I am the one who earns all the money. I hold all the power. If not for me, you would still be on the streets, sniveling like the damned wretch you are."_

 _"Trigon..."_

 _"You owe me everything," he growled and grabbed her roughly._

 _"Please, stop..."_

 _"Don't tell me what to do, woman."_

 _He lunged forward and smacked her across the face. Arella bit back a cry._

 _"What's the matter? Why don't you fight back? Not even going to protect yourself?" Trigon's voice hissed cruelly through the biting silence._

 _"I-I abhor violence."_

 _"Weak. Pitiful." He paced back and forth. "I should be done with you. There is no sense in keeping such a worthless wife around."_

 _"Then why don't you just throw me out?"_

 _Trigon chuckled softly. "Because then you could fight for custody of Rachel."_

 _Terror crept across Arella's face. "Leave her out of this! You're just going to corrupt her!"_

 _"Corrupt? Interesting. So that is how you view me."_

 _Arella looked down at the cold, hard ground. "You were so nice to me at first. You were a real charmer. We got married, we had Rachel, and... where did it all go wrong? Were you just deceiving me the whole time? Trigon..."_

 _"Trigon, Trigon, Trigon, is that all you can say?"_

 _He hit her across the face again. She whimpered and held her hands up. With a deep growl, he grabbed her wrists and jerked one arm away, chuckling at the fear flowing into her eyes. He threw her down, towering menacingly over her slumped form._

 _Suddenly, there was a voice calling from above them._

 _"Mother? Mother, are you there?"_

 _"Look who has come to play," Trigon's eyes filled with maniacal light. "Our dear daughter."_

 _"N-no, stop!"_

 _The door to the basement squeaked as it opened. "Mother, are you down here? I thought I heard your voice."_

 _"No! Rachel, don't come!"_

 _"... is something wrong?"_

 _Footsteps echoed down the stairs. Trigon stood there in silence, stroking his chin thoughtfully._

 _"Mother, why are you here? Is something wrong?"_

 _"Rachel, be a good girl and go back upstairs. It is long past your bedtime, and-"_

 _"I heard you and father arguing again earlier. I saw you... crying." Rachel's voice trembled. "Did he... hurt you?"_

 _"N-no, Rachel, leave b-before you get hurt-"_

 _Arella paled as Trigon lunged forward. Rachel gasped and stepped back, but she tripped over a stair and fell backward. Immediately, he was above her, grabbing her by her legs and dragging her down to the basement floor. She grabbed the ground, but her grip was too weak and she split a couple nails when he pulled her harder._

 _"Rachel, listen to me." Trigon's voice was eerily calm._

 _"No!" The little girl struggled vehemently in his grasp._

 _"Rachel-"_

 _"Let me go!"_

 _"Rachel, my daughter-"_

 _"Shut up! You hurt my mother! I saw you hitting her! She-"_

 _A quick smack to the back of Rachel's head silenced her. He lifted her by her arms, then pinned her to a wall. She whimpered a little at the menacing glare he gave her, then put her hands over her face. Trigon sighed._

 _"Like mother, like daughter."_

 _"Trigon, please," Arella begged. "Leave her out of this. You just... you just had a little too much to drink. I didn't mean to make you angry. Please let her go. I'm the one you have a problem with-"_

 _"You shut up!" Trigon roared and kicked backward._

 _Arella clutched her ribs and fell silent again._

 _"Now listen here, daughter. From now on, you are going to ignore everything your mother tells you. You will listen only to what I say, and you will do only what I tell you to do. I am going to train you to become the perfect person. Do you understand me?"_

 _Rachel stared._

 _"I said, do you understand me?" He squeezed her shoulders a little harder._

 _The little girl stared defiantly into his face. Trigon's eyes narrowed. She glared back. Tension permeated the darkness, the heavy atmosphere so thick that even breathing was starting to get hard. Or were those just his hands constricting her windpipe?_

 _Trigon squeezed a little harder again, then relaxed and chuckled. "So perhaps you are not as weak as your dear mother. You even have the nerve to stand up to me."_

 _Rachel spit in his face._

 _He laughed again. "Good, good! However, you have made a grievous error, Rachel. You have chosen precisely the wrong time to defy me."_

 _Trigon seized her shoulders again and slammed her back against the wall. Behind him, Arella cried out._

 _"Trigon, no! She's only nine! You'll kill her!"_

 _He ignored her._

 _Rachel's back impacted the hard stone again. Bright lights burst into her vision - pain shot through her whole body, sending her nerves into temporary shock, but before she could recover, she hit it again, then again, then a fifth time. Arella's screams were only a faint whisper in the distance, a tiny whimper compared to the hiss of her father's alcohol ridden breath and the throbbing of her head and heartbeat with the paralyzing pain searing through her body._

 _Trigon snarled, shifted his grip, and this time, the back of Rachel's head hit the wall. She felt something break. A soft cry escaped her lips._

 _Somehow, that sound was enough to bring Trigon to his senses. He let her go, stood back, then staggered toward the stairs. Rachel slumped to the ground, blood streaming through her hair. She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt like leaden weights. The throbbing pain in her bones and muscles and the sticky, warm liquid flowing through her hair pervaded her senses. Rachel struggled to stay quiet. She lay there, trembling, waiting until she heard footsteps going up the stairs before letting out another string of quiet whimpers. Slowly, darkness came marching in._

 _Right before she lost consciousness, a gentle hand caressed her cheek._

* * *

Rachel gasped and sat up. She put a hand to her forehead, and not surprisingly, found that she was drenched in cold sweat.

Memories kept flooding back through her vision. He had tried to train her to become cruel and wicked, just like he had been. He wanted her to become a monster. Ever since that day... it had been the first of many long nights spent in the basement, just the two of them when Arella had not been around to protect her. Not that Arella had really tried anyway. Not that Arella had really cared to protect her.

 _No... that was Trigon's fault. It wasn't Arella's. He was the one who hurt me day after day. He hurt her too. She had no way to fight him. She..._ Rachel put her hands over her face. _She could have at least tried to stand up to him a bit more. She could have gotten us out of there. It didn't have to be seven years of that..._

The dark haired girl took a slow breath. She pressed a hand to her back, touched the spot on the back of her head carefully, then stretched her arms out. She closed her eyes, crossed softly, then hummed softly to herself.

 _Close your eyes. Clear your mind. Separate the soul from the body. Center your emotions. Breathe and smell the air. Let it fill your lungs, flow through your body, then let it go. Do it once more. Relax. Feel the tension in your muscles and bones. Stretch them taut. Hold it there. Breathe in. Breathe out. Let it all go._

 _Focus on your heartbeat. Let your breaths fall in time with it. Listen. Can you hear the core of life pulsing? Tense your muscles. Hold it. Keep the tension there. Wait. Let it burn. Relax. Let your emotions drain away. Breathe in. Breathe out. Open your eyes._

Rachel rubbed her arms. _It's cold._

* * *

"Yo, 'sup."

Rachel turned briefly as someone entered her garden. "Garfield. Ah..." She looked more closely. "You're hurt. What happened?"

"Got into a fight."

"Oh?"

"Couple of guys were teasin' me 'bout my flowers. Told them they were for my mom and they started makin' fun of her."

Rachel raised her eyebrows. Garfield shrugged.

"I can take whatever you wanna throw at me, but never, _ever_ insult my mom." The blonde haired boy mashed his knuckles together.

"I see."

His reply was a little hesitant. "I mean, I dunno if you really get it- err, well, lemme rephrase. I dunno if you feel the same way."

"It's hard to really know. But to get hurt like that just over a couple insults... you two must be close."

He looked up. Above, the sky was clear and blue. Bright clouds cast quiet shade across the ground below. Rachel's violet eyes fixated on him for a little bit, studying his stoic expression. There were little cuts on his face and bruises blooming on his arms. The way he was standing was also a little awkward, as if his left side hurt a bit. He wasn't really a big guy - she was already tiny, and he wasn't much taller than her - so it must have been some kind of rage he had worked himself up into to want to get in a fight. Or he was stronger than she gave him credit for. That was definitely possible too.

Rachel looked down. "I'm sorry."

"... what?"

"That was tactless of me. I didn't realize it before, but your parents... ah."

 _Maybe I shouldn't say it. Will he get upset with me if I do? But he looks sad..._

"What about them?"

"Sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, I want to hear it."

"... well... they're, um... not with you anymore. Am I correct in saying that?"

Garfield took a deep breath, still looking up at the sky. The sun glowed brightly through the wispy clouds. The heavens were the palest blue, shining clearly in the radiant day. He smiled a little, bowing his head down. A mixture of emotions worked their way across his face momentarily, but the smile never faded.

"Yeah."

 _So I was right. I've seen that look before. Should I... try to help him?_

Rachel moved a little closer. "You... want to talk about it?"

"Some other day. Didn't come here to tell ya a sob story."

"... I see."

"Though, I'm surprised you figured it out that easy."

Rachel pursed her lips. _There are many reasons for that._ "I told you I am good at reading emotions."

"Yeah, you're like a mind reader or somethin'. I'm also not really that good at hiding my emotions, heh," Garfield put a hand behind his head.

"I could tell."

"Hey!"

"That's not a bad thing, though," the dark haired girl turned away. "Having secrets is difficult. Sometimes, being open makes things easier."

"You tryin' to give me advice?"

"Perhaps you do not feel comfortable talking to me about it, but you have your own friends to lean on when you need help. If you're suffering, you do not need to go through it alone." _It can be hard._

"I guess. Doesn't feel right talkin' to them, though. One of 'em has a boyfriend. Kori Anders? Ya know, Grayson's girlfriend."

"Oh. Her. Yes, I have seen her occasionally. So it would be awkward to intrude on their relationship."

"Yeah. And guys just... I dunno. We don't talk 'bout this stuff, I guess. I mean, don't get me wrong, we're always there for each other, but... we just kinda... support each other in different ways."

"So find another girl."

"Dude. I've had plenty of girlfriends-"

"And?"

"-but it's not like I'm gonna just open up to a bunch of random bimbos. I mean, people only ever dated me 'cause I got a good rep in bed, if ya know what I mean, heh heh..."

"Garfield," Rachel muttered crossly. "I thought you were being serious for once."

"Oops. Sorry." He paused. "What I mean is, I'm not that kinda guy, ya know. It takes someone special. It's just... like, you know, you can't just be open with everyone. You gotta find the right person who understands you, but you can't just be baggage either. It's not fair if I just talk 'bout my problems. I mean, you get it, right? Besides, it's weird talkin' to random peeps."

The dark haired girl turned her attention back to her flowers. The expression on her face was inscrutable.

"I see."

"Yeah, and what about you?"

"What about me?"

"C'mon. It's obvious. You're the type to have _plenty_ of secrets. Pretty weird of you to ask me to talk when you're the one hiding a bunch of stuff."

"Me? What makes you think that?"

"You've got that moody face on again. Like before."

"This is my normal face."

"Is not."

"I think I know my own face better than you do."

"Suuure. You're just denyin' it."

"Whatever you believe."

 _It must have been that dream. I guess he noticed. It's just... whatever. I don't need to talk about my problems to someone like him. It doesn't even need to be a problem. It's over already. It's in the past. So why?_ Rachel put her hand over her chest. _Why does it still hurt?_

The pale girl reached an arm back, pressed it along her spine, stretched a bit, then stood.

"So, are you going to help me or not?"

"But you didn't answer my question!"

"I didn't ask you to come to play 20 questions with you."

"Urgh. True. Fine." He gave her a shifty look, but fortunately, let it drop. "What we plantin' today? And you gonna do it the same way as yesterday?"

"In essence, yes. Today, we will be planting _Anemone nemorosa_ [1]. Another type of violet flower, as you can see. These ones like a lot of sun, so we will be placing them out in the open. You can take a few and plant them wherever you like. Spread them out among the other ones so their roots have enough room to grow."

"Oh. Okay. Anythin' special I should know?"

"Not particularly- Garfield," Rachel glared sternly. "My rules still apply. I said wherever, but that still means you do not go into that corner."

"Aww..."

"And how would you feel if I just intruded upon your property and began messing with your rose bush?"

"Hey, you're the expert. Probs would be a good thing, right? You could make more of 'em grow. 'Cause I suck at it."

Rachel shook her head. "Just stay away from there. I will be doing that area."

"Fine, fine."

Garfield grabbed a couple of plants and shifted to the opposite side of the garden under the pale girl's watchful eye.

It was hot and dry. The sun's radiant light beat down from above. It was a little bit of hard work, crouched down to carefully dig holes in the soil and handling the flowers with the utmost care. It wasn't like he needed to - being so gentle with the plants was not really a necessity - but something about being here was special. It would have been bad if he messed up her flowers when she was perfectly capable of doing it herself.

The sweltering heat grew over time. Garfield wiped his forehead and sat back for a brief moment, breathing in the fresh air. A mixture of delicate fragrances filled his lungs, the smoke and musty scent of the city gone here in the violet garden. Something about it was relaxing. Despite his tiring muscles and the intense heat, it was pleasant. It wasn't like the hectic frenzy of university life, nor the deep gloom brooding over his parents' deaths. There was almost nothing to worry about. Something about planting the vibrant, violet tinged, azure hued flowers took his mind off of everything else.

He stared at their colorful petals, waving slightly in the wind, the bending of their thin stems back and forth, the way the light caressed the leaves and flowers, reflecting off and almost making them seem to glow. It was amazing really. The flowers were such small, delicate things, and yet, he knew, they were sturdier than they seemed. It would have been so easy to crush them under a foot, or cut them apart with a pair of clippers, but even with that, they would still grow back. It would take time, but they could heal. Not that he really wanted to do something like that.

Truthfully, it seemed to him that the lively little rings of colored petals were something to be cherished. Sure, it wasn't the most manly. Like, what would Victor or Richard say if they saw him like this? But then again, how could he just ignore the hidden treasure he had been presented with? Here, it was warm. It felt... safe. It was like a haven from the stress of life and the terrors of his parents' death. Against the drab grey and heavily industrialized architecture of the city, the little garden of carefully tended flowers grew peacefully as a violet and green mosaic of nature.

Garfield touched one of the blue-ish violet flowers carefully with his fingers and marveled at the smooth, silky texture. He took a breath of the fragrance, let it flow through him, then looked up again. The sun was bright. The sky was clear and blue. He took another breath, then let it go.

"Could you move a little?" Rachel's low voice broke through his trance.

"Yeah."

Garfield stood aside. The dark haired girl poured some water over the flowers and watched it go down. She had pulled her hair back into a ponytail and even she was sweating a little, the extra sheen her pale skin making her glow in the sunlight.

"Why do you always wear long sleeves?"

"That's not your business," she muttered back.

"Was just curious..."

"I prefer not having other people look at my body."

"... alright."

Rachel stood up straight again. "And why were you totally zoned out earlier? You didn't even notice when I walked over."

"Oh. Yeah, my bad. I was just distracted."

"By?"

"This place. It's really nice."

"Nice?"

"This garden. You did a real good job with it."

"I see." Rachel turned and walked away.

 _Man. She just doesn't know how to talk to other people! I compliment her and all I get is a little 'I see'. Would it kill her to show some emotion at all? I mean yeah, obviously she has some secrets and obviously she doesn't wanna share 'em, but... eh. At least she's bein' nicer than she was yesterday. Gettin' better, I guess._

The dark haired girl returned a minute later, carrying a couple glasses with her. She held one out to him. "Iced tea?"

"For me? Whoa, thanks."

Rachel offered him a brief nod, then held out a bit of money again.

"... Again?"

"What, you think I would just take your help without compensation?"

"No, but like... damn, guess you're a lot nicer than you look."

She pursed her lips. "I look... unkind? Ugly is one thing, but-"

 _Whoa, wait up._ "I never called you ugly." Garfield blurted out quickly.

"No? You called me flat before. And moody. I believe you also have used some undesirable words. You have also mentioned I have no friends. Those would clearly imply that I am unattractive on a physical level, since I already know that I am a little... difficult."

"So you admit it!"

"Yes, thank you. I am very happy to know that I am both ugly on the inside and outside."

"Hey now..." _What's with her?_ "I was just jokin' before! Why're you bein' so moody 'bout it now?"

Rachel held a hand to her head. "I have been... feeling a little off today. Forgive me."

Garfield set his drink down and walked over to her. He stretched a hand out toward her shoulder. Before he could reach her, however, she brushed him away. "I don't like being touched."

"I just wanna know if something's wrong. You said I should let other people help me. Same to you."

"I don't need help. And I don't have problems the same way you do. I just feel a bit weird today." Rachel took a deep breath. "Please don't touch me."

 _God damn, she's so freakin' cold! Talk about bein' an ice queen. I just wanna try helpin' and she pulls that little stunt. I just don't get girls like this. They just make no sense..._

At the faltering smile on Garfield's face, Rachel turned away. "Garfield."

"Yes?"

"I don't mean to be ungrateful. I appreciate your concern, but I am truly fine. You should not assume that just because I am acting a little differently, I need comforting or any sort of help."

"Yeah, but when you're bein' so self deprecating..."

"Garfield. I'm not attractive like you. I know that. Most of the time, I don't get noticed. I'm fine with that. When people do see me, they think I'm creepy, or rude. Or cold, or cruel. You just were honest enough to voice it. I won't lie about this. Being thought of like that sucks."

"Well duh. But you can change, right?"

Rachel sighed. "That makes it sound like there's something wrong with me. It's as if I'm not acceptable as a person and I need to change to make everyone else happy."

"N-no, I didn't mean that-"

She eyed him with a steely, stoic expression. The glint to her violet eyes was completely indecipherable. "I know. You're a nice person. I'm just not used to your honesty." She turned away.

"Rachel, I-"

She held a hand up. "How about you come back in say... three days? Same time. I'll have more flowers coming then."

"Um, sure. But Rachel-"

"Good. Then, I have some other things I need to do. I hate to do this, but would you mind leaving now?"

...

 _Like seriously dude, what's her problem?_

 _Why do I even care? She's just some girl I plant flowers with. I didn't even know she existed like a week ago. I mean, if she keeps insistin' that she doesn't have problems, then it's totally not my business. She doesn't want my help, fine. I..._

 _But what if she really needs help? What if she's just scared? I know that feeling..._

 _No. It's not my business._

 _You just gonna leave her like that? What if she's really hurtin' inside. You know the only reason you're doin' okay now is 'cause Victor and Kori and Richard helped support ya._

 _Okay, yes. Better than before. Not that that's really sayin' much._

 _Sure, you got problems too. But so does she. Probably. You just gonna ignore that?_

 _Look. She told me to leave for now, and 'sides, I'm comin' back in a couple days. No big deal. I'll just ask her more then. Don't wanna piss her off now._

"Alright, I guess. See ya."

Rachel waved at him and disappeared into her house. Garfield stared at her retreating back, then sighed and hopped over the fence. He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked down the street back toward his own home.

* * *

[1] Anemones are associated with "protection against evil."

A/N: Anyone catch Rachel's little slip ups near the end? Luckily for her, Garfield didn't comment on them.


	4. Aster

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans

Since this story has been getting an unusual amount of guest reviews (for me, at least), I feel obliged to say thanks to everyone who has been reviewing, even if I can't reply to you directly. Also, if you are logged in and I randomly forget to reply to you or you want to talk, just PM me.

* * *

The sky was grey.

It was a cool morning, good for running, but part of him liked getting sunshine and clear skies. At least the clouds brought shade.

Garfield Logan stopped at an intersection, briefly looking at his phone. _10:37. So I've done what, like two miles in 18 minutes? Lil' slow, but I'm just gettin' warmed up._

He stretched his legs a little, then continued on. It was a little humid, so he was sweating a little more than normal, but other than the minor discomfort, it wasn't anything too bad. Crossing over another street, the blonde picked up the pace a bit. While running wasn't exactly a routine for him - he went to the gym more - it was still something he enjoyed. There was something relaxing about the physical exertion, where there was nothing else to worry him and all he had to do was focus on putting one foot in front of the other. It was tiring, but invigorating at the same time. There was something peaceful about it.

Garfield stopped at another intersection, waiting for the light to turn. A couple moments later, someone ran up beside him. He turned.

"Mornin'."

There was no response. He turned. It was a girl.

The light turned green and she ran past him.

"Rachel? Hey, Rae, wait up!"

She was surprisingly fast; he had a hard time keeping up with her, especially since they were running uphill. The humidity in the air grew denser as a slight drizzle began to fall around them. Cool droplets ran down his skin as he pursued her. They turned through several streets. He heaved for breath in the heavy atmosphere, lungs gasping for oxygen as he tried to maintain her speed.

The dark leaves of trees appeared above. Garfield looked up briefly, not recognizing the small park they were in, then looked forward again. She was nowhere in sight.

"God damn," he muttered. "Rae, why're you runnin'?"

He looked around rapidly for a moment, then caught sight of her between an arc of small trees. Pursuing her, he gathered his strength and ran faster.

They turned. A long stretch of road spanned out in front of him, a straight path of pure grey carved out of the surrounding trees. Cast in monochromatic color of falling rain, he had a clear view of her ahead of him. She was there, within sight, but somehow slipping farther and farther away.

He became painfully aware of the slow burn in his legs, realizing that he couldn't keep up with her. Down the long path, she was far ahead of him… too far away, too far out of reach. Yet, he pursued, working his legs as hard as he could to at least keep her in sight.

… then again, why was he even chasing after her? They weren't even real friends, not really – they were just two people who happened to know each other and sometimes planted flowers together. So why was he chasing her?

But then, the reason probably didn't really matter.

Sweat dripped down his face and back. Gasping for breath, he felt the muscles in his body ache with the continue exertion. The rain fell harder. Rivulets of cool water poured from the sky, casting the grey world into an even darker shade. Ahead, her form blended in with the hueless world. It was a painful, long chase through the straight road, watching her draw farther away with each passing moment. Somehow, he knew he had to catch her. Why? That could be worried about later.

She turned.

Blurs of muted green and brown streaked past his vision. Faintly, Garfield was aware that they were no longer in the city proper; here, there were plains and trees, fields of little flowers and small cottages. Somehow, he knew exactly where they were. The question was, why was she running this way? It couldn't have been a coincidence.

They ran down a winding rock path. He slipped a little, but caught himself before he fell. His vision blurred in the pouring rain. Garfield shook his head rapidly. The fast run in the thick rain was gruelingly painful. The aching burn had become a searing pain in his legs, but somehow he managed to ignore it and continue pursuing her.

His vision cleared a little.

Ahead, her dark shape took on a different form. She was no longer just a girl, but something like a dark angel, a shadow slipping through the rain, or perhaps a raven gliding smoothly and elegantly over the monochrome world. Her movements were eerily smooth and elegant.

She turned once more. The trees grew thicker again. This place was intimately recognizable. It couldn't have been a coincidence…

She slowed a bit. The distance between them closed. Somehow, he knew that it was intentional on her part. She couldn't have been trying to get away from him or she would have done so earlier. He was meant to follow her here. Why?

And why had he followed her?

Her paced slowed further. The rain thinned. Garfield panted for breath as he approached.

Her hair was gathered into a small, sleek ponytail. In the dim light, her pale face was pointed and angular, glistening with the rain. Shadows covered her eyes and hollowed out her cheeks, giving her a gaunt, haunted appearance. Her body was thin and slight – for some reason, she was wearing long sleeves and long pants, but then again, that was all he had ever seen her wear.

If anything, her garb today was more form fitting than he had seen from her yet. So she wasn't exactly attractive in the normal way, not in the sense that he looked at other girls. She wasn't curvy, she didn't have a chest, her face was unemotional and dark, too plain…

Somehow, it didn't matter. There was something alluring about the gleam of her eyes through the silky drizzle of rain. Violet amethyst pierced the veil between them.

Rachel drew a low breath. Faintly, he was aware that she was a little bit winded, but not nearly as much as he was – it was all he could do to keep upright, let alone continue following after her. Luckily, she decided not to run any longer.

She stretched her sleek, toned muscles briefly, then walked down the path a little farther. He already knew where she was going.

There was a small fence up ahead. She put her arms over the edge and stared into a cemetery. The grey sky lightened a little.

It was silent for a long while as he regained his breath, watching her stare motionlessly outward. There was something terrifying about her posture. Something screamed at him to approach her, and something else screamed at him to stay away.

Garfield took a deep breath. His legs protested when he tried to walk. They burned painfully; he took a few steps anyway, limping a little toward where she was.

Rachel turned. Violet and green met again.

The dark gleam of her eyes was captivating. He stared, enthralled for several minutes, entranced by the pair of dusky gems radiating a plethora of unidentifiable emotion that her face did not. The smoothness of her pale skin was too plain – he had thought – too restrained… too shadowed. She wasn't an emotional person. She wasn't a nice person either. She just didn't care about anything else… she was just totally self-absorbed. That was what he had thought.

Somehow, those eyes spoke differently. What was it about them?

Her lips twisted. Rachel wrinkled her nose, then looked away.

"You stink."

Garfield took a long breath. "Dude. You coulda ran slower."

"Who said you were supposed to follow me?"

"If you didn't want me to, you woulda lost me long ago. You meant for me to follow."

Rachel put a finger to his chest. "That's what you think."

"That's what I know."

"Men," she muttered under her breath. "What makes you think you were supposed to follow? We barely know each other, Garfield. I don't mean this in a harsh way. I'm just saying that we only met about two weeks ago. There's no reason for me to expect you to follow me on a long run out here."

"No reason I shouldn't. You definitely wanted me to follow you. Don't pretend."

"One, there is no possible way I would have wanted you to follow me. That falls under the realm of stalkers. Two, why would you take the effort to follow me this far? You shouldn't even care to do that."

"Dunno. I was curious. Besides, thought you might like the attention. Since you never seem to get any."

Her eyes narrowed. "Is that so? Did you see a nice piece of ass and think 'I'm so going to get that in bed with me tonight'? Am I just a whore to you?"

"N-no. I didn't mean it like that."

"I saw you staring at me. You _were_ checking me out."

He held his hands up defensively. "Yeah, so? I wasn't really ogling you or anythin'. I just looked for a bit. No need to freak out about it. I don't see what your problem is. Not really a big deal."

"The problem is men," Rachel retorted. "You _men_ just don't know how to take things slowly. You're just aggressive and whenever you see something you want, you try to take it as soon as you can without a second thought. It hasn't reached your brain that friendships and relationships are things you develop over time."

"That's totally not-"

"You're just like them. You're just salty that you can't get anyone to like you because you're childish and assume things that just aren't true. Look, if you wanted to be friends, there were other ways to do it than this."

"Dude, what's the problem? I know you're in a bad mood, but c'mon. Or… don't tell me, is it that time-"

"The problem is you assuming things. You just assume you know what I want, and when I tell you you're wrong, you can't accept it. You just want to force your own assumptions onto me so you feel justified in chasing after someone who can actually tolerate you."

"Hell, who'd want to be friends with a stiff prick like you?" Garfield threw his arms up. "You'd think that an ugly freak like you would _want_ some friends. But I guess you stay holed up in your stuffy little witch den all day for a reason. You just think everyone else is garbage for caring even a little."

Her lips worked furiously, but nothing came out.

"I'm sick of the shit that comes out from you! I run through all this stupid rain and take hours of time to chase you and all you give me is this dick-ass attitude! All because I thought _maybe_ you'd want to make a friend some time in your life, and maybe I could give you a chance."

Rachel put her arms over her chest.

"Look." He shoved her back. "I don't know what you think about me and I dunno what kind of guys you've talked to, but I'm not like some of the dicks out there, okay? I'm not just tryin' to get into your pants or 'nything. I thought that since you looked so pathetic a few days ago, I'd make myself available if you wanted to talk. Instead, I find out you're just as sour on the inside as you are on the outside."

Her look softened. Not noticing, Garfield grabbed her shoulders and squeezed. Part of him was very tempted to hit her, but he settled for tightening his grip on her.

"And for the record, I've had plenty of girlfriends _way_ prettier than you. Why the hell would I have to settle for someone like you? I'm even a guy who looks for personality in a girl. If you're not pretty, no big deal. If you're nice and fun to be around, that's great too. But you? You're ugly and you're a jackass, and all you do is take it out on other people! Maybe you're smart, but that's all you've got goin' for you."

Garfield squeezed harder. A flash of pain across her features brought him to his senses and he let her go. His own words echoed back at him through the falling rain. The blonde boy stepped back, a swirl of emotions simmering away at the dejected look in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she muttered softly, rubbing her shoulders. "My anger was unjustified. You're right."

He took a moment to respond, choosing his words more carefully. "Look, I didn't really mean-"

She held a hand up. "It's fine. You were expressing your true feelings. Maybe I'm ugly. There's not much I can do about that. I know I'm difficult. I shouldn't be blaming you for making an effort to be considerate. I simply misinterpreted what you said."

Garfield paused. A ghost of a melancholic smile crossed her lips. She refused to meet his eyes. The way she was rubbing her shoulders seemed to suggest-

"Hey," he reached forward. "I didn't mean to hurt you…"

"I'll bruise a bit, but it should be fine," she waved him off. "I understand. You don't want to deal with someone like me. That's very understandable. You shouldn't have to."

"Rachel…"

She turned away, untying her hair and letting it shroud her face. "Just leave me be."

"Come on."

The dark haired girl hugged her arms around her ribs and walked away. He followed.

"Dude, no need to get so down about it."

She ignored him. Soft steps carried her past the entrance to the cemetery. She walked on the sodden earth, looking wordlessly at the grove of tombstones. Garfield cursed to himself and ran after her.

"I know I was mad. I didn't mean all those things I said. I just blew up 'cause you were bein' hard on me."

She didn't stop. He put an arm out and touched her shoulder. She flinched, wincing. He drew his hand back quickly.

"Sorry. I really hurt you, didn't I?"

"I'm fine," Rachel's voice was very soft. "I sort of deserved it."

Garfield took a slow breath. "Is it too late for me to take it back? Honest. I don't actually think those things. I know you're smart. You're actually kinda nice in a lot of ways. You're not ugly. I actually think you're cute, if that matters at all to you. You know how people just tend to insult others when they're mad. And I guess… I don't know. I'm just tired. I struggled a lot to keep up with ya, and it's rainy and…"

"And what's wrong with rain?"

"What, you like rain? Figures. That's just like you."

Rachel nodded slowly. "An astute observation. I'm not being sarcastic, by the way."

"What, surprised? I mean, I kinda picked up on a few of your habits after hangin' around. That's kinda what friends do, so I figured maybe you'd think of me as a friend by now. You know, considering we do things together and sort of know each other."

"Following me out here, though…"

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have just assumed that you wanted me to, 'specially after you told me you didn't want me to. I was just frustrated like I said. I'm just not good at being patient."

Rachel continued walking. He followed her.

"So I guess we both acted kinda shitty there, but I know where you're comin' from. I'm not one of those guys, ya know. I know I might act kinda goofy sometimes, but I don't just wanna get in your pants. I do care about you as a person."

The pale girl stopped again. It was just then that he realized that she had something in her hand. _Flowers?_

She looked around. They were underneath a small grove of trees, where there were two graves side by side in the protective cover of the trees.

Rachel knelt and laid the flowers at the foot of the tombstones.

"I had originally brought these for a different purpose, but this is fine as well," she whispered to herself more than to him. Rachel stood again. "Garfield, do you know what _Aster_ symbolizes?"

"Patience, right?"

She nodded. "How did you know?"

"I'm not an idiot. Since we've been plantin' a bunch of violet flowers, I looked up some so I'd know how to take care of 'em. Aster was one of the ones that came up. It can mean a lot of things, but patience was one of the ones listed."

"I thought it was fitting."

"So you put 'em on my parents' graves?"

"I hope you are not offended. I grew them myself, as you must have suspected."

"N-no, it's nice of you to do that. But what'd you bring them for originally?"

Rachel knelt again. She trailed her fingers over the petals, then shifted her gaze toward another flower beside them. It was wilted by now and the petals were scattered, but she still recognized it. It was something that had been placed there by someone else.

Obviously, she wasn't going to answer his question. "This is a white rose. You grew it?"

"Yeah," Garfield put his hand behind his head. "Like I said, there aren't that many so I could only bring one a few days ago. Least it's got company now."

…

"I appreciate your flowers. I really do. They're special."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. You put so much care into 'em. Like that carnation you've got. Or whatever's in that corner where I'm not supposed to go. So I'm always surprised when you act emotionless or like you don't care about anything. Like, if you can take such good care of flowers…"

"Flowers aren't people, Garfield," her voice dropped. "Some people are _shit_."

"What? I didn't hear-"

Rachel paused briefly. "I will have to see your rose bush sometime. I have never seen your place yet. If you are willing to forgive me…"

"O-of course! Rae, I might've got a bit mad there, but we can work this stuff out."

"Yes, we can. Thank you. I will work on my attitude. However… this does not mean you can call me 'Rae' just yet. My name is still Rachel."

"Right. I'll try to control myself too. I know I said that you act emotionless, but you definitely have feelings too. I'm sorry for hurting you. I won't do it again."

"I wouldn't make promises you can't keep."

"I'll try my very best."

Rachel closed her eyes and tilted her head up. With the grey light falling around her body and the soft wind blowing her tangled locks of raven hair around her angular face, she looked different. She _was_ enthralling after all, not overtly pretty, but striking in a different sense.

Glowing mauve opened in thin slits again. "I appreciate your concern. Nobody has put up with me like this before."

"Hey. You might be stubborn, but I'm stubborn too. Don't underestimate me."

Her lips tilted up. "I see." Rachel put a finger to her lips. "So, there is one more problem."

"There is?"

"Yes," she intoned breathlessly. "We still have to run back."

It took him a moment to digest those words. As soon as he did, his legs turned to jelly. Garfield groaned.

* * *

A/N: Rather rocky relationship, huh.


	5. Orchid and Hyacinth

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans

For those who care, after this chapter, don't bet on any consistent updates. I might still be able to do these on a weekly basis, but I might not.

* * *

 _Cold._

She rubbed her arms and stepped back. The water heated after a minute or so, then she stepped back in. Streams of warmth ran over her cool skin, drawing the tension out of her aching muscles. Heat pulsated through her pale flesh, running down through her hair and across her skin in a rush of cascading comfort. She breathed in lightly and her skin did as well, dirt and grime washed away, giving way to pure, fresh cleanliness.

Scrubbing at her back scratched away her aches and pains, hints of unpleasant memories that her mind forced upon her. She set it down and combed through her hair after, washing out the long, dark strands, staring through a curtain of foam from shampoo, then conditioner. The silky locks clung to her skin; she pulled them away from her face and neck, picking up the scrubber again.

Running it across the soft skin of her shins and thighs, she let it smooth out the little imperfections, the little bumps and the outer-most layers of skin. She adjusted the heat back again, letting the water alternate between warmth and coolness, first a pulse of invigorating heat permeating her body, then a comforting cold drawing it away. She turned her face up and let the falling water hit her directly, sending little pinpricks through her cheeks.

A little pain in her shoulders was a little nasty reminder, but a couple of bruises was not really a big deal...

The rough way he had seized her might have been unpleasant, but it was nothing compared to what had happened before. Echos of past sensation worked at her mind. Fractured bones, torn muscles, sweat and blood... she felt a twinge of pain run through her and held a hand to her stomach, then clutched at her breast. It started as a little spark, piercing her sternum. A thread of heat pulsated slowly, drawing tension into her rather than away.

She fumbled at the knobs of the shower, but her grasp slipped.

Heat started from a low warmth, then grew hotter and hotter. It became an unpleasant sauna first, a simple grasp on her shoulder turning into a violent choke at her neck, then into brutish blows scattered across her body. The water grew hotter, scalding, like the scorching agony of cuts and puncture wounds marring her pale flesh, dripping her lifeblood in steady streams. She gasped, but it would not stop. It scorched her body, the heat rising in time with the severity of each, agonizing memory.

From scalding, the burning liquid boiled around her, melting her muscles straight from her bones, searing her skin from the rest of her body, then burning even her skeletal frame to a crisp, leaving nothing but ashes. The boiling heat consumed her delicate flesh, just like the rough hands on her body, forcing her into submission, just like the depraved, wicked words whispered in her ear, like her own inability to fight back and stop him from _using_ her and corrupting her. It boiled through her veins like liquid fire, blazing in raw fury and malicious antipathy. His demonic visage burned a sickly sanguine above her. She trembled, the weight of past echos flashing in front of her eyes.

She struggled. He hit her, hard, then pinned her to the ground. A knife run down the center of her body cut her shirt in two and left a long line of blood along her pale skin. He fumbled lower, cut her bottoms away, then struck her again when she tried to protest. Blood blazed through her whole body in a torrent of vehement resistance. She struck back, kicking hard between the legs. He howled in pain, then slammed her head against the ground. Bright stars burst into vision, quickly followed by dizziness, then quickly followed by deep, deep terror when the knife drew closer again. The rough hand seized her and forced her into a position of submission. There was blood everywhere, a distant pain that pulsated from the past to her body in the present, a dull pain at the back of her head, along the lower areas of her spine, between her legs...

...

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut. The memories stopped. She turned the water back to cold, letting it wash everything away. The only thing that lingered was the slight ache in her shoulders. She turned the water off and put both hands against the wall, supporting her drenched body.

The dark haired girl bent her head down, letting her hair shroud her face. Water dripped off of her as she breathed slowly and carefully. The noise of pounding metal rang in her ears. Her head throbbed painfully, bright light blinding her with its whitish glare.

And then, they flickered out. Rachel froze. Darkness ghosted across her skin in a wave of terror.

Fortunately, it was just for a moment.

The lights came back on, and she slumped down, hugging her arms around her chest. The dark haired girl leaned back, tilting her head up and closing her eyes. The ache in her shoulders spread to her heart. Heat dissipated, leaving her cold again. Her face was smooth and expressionless when she opened her eyes again.

She took a soft breath and stood, looking at her own appearance in the mirror. The lights flickered again. The silhouette of a large, powerful man behind her appeared for just a second. She froze again, eyes wide, then gasped aloud as it was replaced with Garfield's angry face, followed quickly by hard squeezing at her shoulders and a dull ache at the juncture at her legs.

 _"Stop..._ "

Her lips parted slightly; she wasn't sure if she had whispered it aloud, or if it had just been her imagination.

The image faded and she was alone again. Her reflection stared back at her. She cringed a bit at the sight of her appearance, turning away, not willing to look at herself. Her body still hurt all over.

 _It's my fault._

* * *

"Hey. What'cha got there?"

"Flowers."

"... I can see that."

Garfield stared as she strung up a delicate string of brightly colored flowers over the branch of a small tree. Despite the warmth of the day, the aura around her was cold and repressed. Her face was utterly inscrutable.

"So... uh..."

She didn't even bother looking up. He continued staring there, watching her work.

"Want help?"

Rachel shrugged.

"... Alright."

Garfield opened the fence and stepped in. There were two types of flowers - the more brightly colored ones, she was stringing over the branches at the moment, and several others in pots, which were darker, but no less brilliant in color. He watched as she carefully attached the flowers to the bark of the tree, standing on her tiptoes to try to reach the slightly higher branches.

The blonde haired boy walked over. She stood aside, lips pressed together as he mimicked her movements and brushed away a little of the dirt, carefully attaching the base of the flowers to the branches.

"Good? I'm not messing it up, am I?"

She shook her head briefly, then knelt down and gathered another string. A little miffed by her coldness, Garfield stood back.

"Um. Something wrong?"

Rachel ignored him. Frustration welled up for a moment, but he decided not to vent it when she gestured back up at the branches of the other small tree in her garden. As he attached the flowers again, he watched her do the same around the trunk and the lower branches, her quick, deft movements fluid and graceful. When she stood, however, something about her seemed a little stiffer than normal. Rachel grimaced, gingerly stretched her shoulder a bit, then squatted again and began working on the flowers in the pots. She grabbed a shovel, paused, rubbed her shoulder again, lips curling very slightly.

He realized it then. "W-wait."

Rachel raised an eyebrow.

"You still mad about our, uh, fight?"

"No."

"I... I really hurt you, didn't I?" Garfield reached a hand forward.

She flinched before he even reached her shoulder and shifted away from him. "Please don't touch me."

"I wasn't-"

"It's not that it'll hurt. Just please don't."

"O-okay..." He paused. "I, uh... gosh, I feel really bad now. I didn't actually mean to hurt you. I was just mad."

"I know. I said it's fine."

Garfield fidgeted uncomfortably. "How much... does it hurt?"

The dark haired girl rolled her eyes. "I'm not that delicate."

"Still... I mean, ya also seem a bit off today."

"Do I?"

Rachel patted the soil down around one of the flowers and began digging another hole. Her face was still impassive, but beneath the curtain of her hair, out of his sight, her eyes shimmered a little.

"I mean, yeah. Look, I totally get it if you're mad at me. Just tell me-"

"I told you I'm not."

"So what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

...

"I don't get you," Garfield sighed. "Like, why do you hafta hide everything? Why can't you just like, tell me what you think? Why can't you just be open about it?"

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut, still facing away from him. Her voice was very quiet when she spoke.

"Because that's not who I am. I'm sorry."

Her hand trembled as she tried digging out more soil. She hesitated a bit, bit her lip, then set the shovel down and turned back to another pot instead. It would not cooperate with her either. Frustration welled up; she put a bit more force, trying to dump the flower out upside down, but a hand on her wrist stopped her. She flinched and drew her hand back, as if his touch burned.

"Sorry," he blurted out. "It's just... you were gonna break it, so..."

Rachel took a small breath and sat back. Garfield waited for her to say something, but when she didn't, he continued on.

"Hmm... how do I put this..." He worked surprisingly gently with the flowers as he talked. "Like... I didn't mean to put ya down. I just... didn't realize it, ya know. 'Cause most of my friends are open people, and hell, even if I've got a ton of stuff I carry around with me too, I feel better talkin' about it with them. Even Grayson's talks way more nowadays, and he used to be the biggest, stuck-up snob known to mankind!"

He snuck a glance to the side. Rachel had her face tilted up, eyes closed. He took it as a sign that he should keep talking.

"So, look, I'm sorry. You're not open. I just... I didn't realize it. But I get it now. You're a bit different. But that doesn't mean I can't accept you. It's who you are, right? I'm not gonna just hate on ya for bein' yourself. It's just a bit frustratin' sometimes, but... I don't wanna make you feel like there's somethin' wrong with you."

Her lips parted briefly, but no sound came out. Garfield stared at her face. It was as emotionless a mask as ever, but somewhere deep down in her smooth expression, it became evident that it wasn't that she didn't feel emotions, it was that she was _holding them back_.

A pang of pity ran through him.

"Rachel," his voice was lower and darker than before. "I know you said you don't like talkin' about yourself, but... would it really hurt to tell me what's wrong? I can help you. Rachel-?"

He put a hand out, but her whispery breath stopped him. "Please don't touch me."

She sat up again, rubbing her shoulders. Her dark, dreary eyes fixated on his. The deep mauve of her eyes was bottomless and all-consuming. The shadows and weariness pervading her eyes was mirthless and haunting.

"I might tell you some day," she murmured, almost as if she didn't mean it, "but I don't feel comfortable doing so yet. So instead, why don't you talk about yourself?"

Garfield's mouth opened unconsciously, but he could not break free from her stare. Rachel realized it quickly and looked away, moving back to planting the flowers. The blonde haired boy blinked a few times, slightly dazed, before going to help her.

"Um. Why, though?"

"Garfield. Just because I don't like talking about myself doesn't mean I dislike listening to other peoples' issues."

"But I don't really have any."

"Well..." she hesitated again. "Maybe I shouldn't be asking this."

"Nah, go ahead."

"It's too personal. I don't want to upset you."

"It's fine. Just say it. If I don't want to answer, I'll just tell ya."

"... alright." Rachel bent her head down. "So, um, can you tell me about what happened to your parents?"

He froze in the middle of planting one of the flowers. The dark haired girl cringed.

"... you don't have to-"

Garfield regained his wits after a moment. "Nah, you just kinda surprised me. Didn't think you'd ask somethin' like that. So, uh, my parents. Right. It's a long story."

"We have time."

"Sure. So, uhm, I guess I gotta explain this first. My folks liked to travel a lot, ya know? They liked bein' outdoors and seein' the world. Sometimes got 'em into not so safe places. Like when we went somewhere in Africa where there were a bunch of weird diseases makin' people sick. Or when we went to the Himalayas, or, well yeah, you get the point. Basically, they got in a bunch of sticky spots, but they always made sure I was safe."

Garfield looked at his hands.

"Thinkin' back, I should've stopped 'em. We were in South America. Somewhere in the Amazon, I think. They wanted to go boatin', but it wasn't where anyone had explored for real. Like, all we had was a crappy, hand-drawn map that vaguely told us where we were, and that's it. They told me to stay on the banks while they tested the waters."

He shook his head, running a hand through the tousled, blonde locks.

"I followed 'em for a bit. The current got faster after a bit. It was too much for 'em. I wanted to jump down and help them, but... but I was scared. I was kinda young. I wasn't that strong. I should have, but I was scared for my own life. Like a filthy coward. There was a waterfall there. They weren't really ready for it. I didn't know what to do. I... I should've tried _something_ , but all I did was watch."

"That's not your fault..." Rachel murmured.

"That's what Victor and Kori said too. I don't know. Look, I'm a down to earth, honest kinda guy. I won't bullshit you. It was their decision to go. But I should have at least tried. I shouldn't have been so scared."

"You were young. It's easy to look at it and see the right thing to do in hindsight."

"Dude. I could've thrown them a rope, or _anything._ It wouldn't have put me in danger. Even if I was scared that I was gonna die, I didn't have to just stand there. I coulda done something else. Besides, what kind of ungrateful kid was I if I didn't even wanna try 'n help them at all?"

"It's not your fault," Rachel repeated softly. "There's no reason to beat yourself up about it."

"I'm not. I just know that I could have done something, but I didn't. So now I have to live with it."

The dark haired girl pursed her lips. Garfield looked up at the sky.

"We had a little radio. They found me pretty fast."

"And your parents?"

"Took a while. They couldn't possibly have survived going over that waterfall. It wouldn't have mattered when they found them. It didn't get any better after. I was angry, ya know? I was just a young kid who had no control over his emotions. I got picked up by a little gang, but since I was the youngest and smallest guy there, they beat me up all the time and made me do all their dirty work. You know, stealin' things, distractin' cops, running around and doing all their work while they just sat around."

"You didn't have relatives to take you in?"

"I had an uncle. It wasn't much better. When I quit the gang to go live with him, he just tried to sell me to research labs so they could use my body for experiments. Luckily, cops found out fast, put an end to that. Uncle's in jail now. Hell, he might be dead already. Don't really care either way. I ended up at the orphanage after. Met Victor there. He lost his parents too, so we hit it off pretty good. It got a lot better with him around. It helped, bein' able to talk to him. We sorta understood each other, ya know? I mean, the orphanage wasn't the nicest place, but it was hella better than livin' on the streets, or with my uncle. He's a pretty cool guy. Taught me how to control my anger. Put my energy into studying for college and other things, rather than gettin' in trouble. He's the one who convinced me to get into college with him, you know? He's a smart guy. I wanna be as smart as him one day."

He turned to look at her.

"Sorry, kinda rambled on a bit."

Rachel didn't meet his gaze. "It's okay. I didn't know..." she sighed. "You had such a hard life."

"Nah. It was just bad for a couple years. And I still feel a bit guilty 'bout my folks sometimes, but... you know, friends help you deal with these things. I got some good people who support me nowadays. Even ol' Richard's pretty good to talk to."

"It must be nice."

"It is." Garfield moved toward her. "That's why I wanna help you."

Rachel pursed her lips.

"You got a lot goin' on inside. I can tell. Maybe I didn't go through exactly the same thing you did. But I know what suffering's like. Rachel, talking helps."

"I'm sure it does." She glanced down at the flower in her hands.

"You're not going to, though."

"Not yet."

"... I mean..."

"I thought you said you could accept that I do not enjoy talking about myself."

"I can. I just thought... err - ah, never mind. It's fine, you'll talk when you're ready. I just thought that I could support you. Like a friend, you know."

Her eyes were darker than ever as she looked at his face. "Garfield. What makes you think we aren't friends?"

She stood and walked away. He stared at her for several minutes as she began watering the flowers. In the glowing sunlight, her dark clothing and black hair stood out in stark contrast with the paleness of her skin. Whereas before, he had thought that she looked drab and unattractive, there was a different quality to her form now. She didn't seem plain or boyish anymore. Something about the way she held herself exuded self-loathing, hints of darker currents running under the smooth pallor of her face, all emotion held down and contained within the repressed confines of her mind. She hid it well - it was why he hadn't noticed until now. Though she kept any expression of feeling - besides irritation - to an utmost minimum, it was in the dark shimmering of her eyes where she failed to hold it back.

Or maybe she didn't fail. Maybe, just maybe, that was her way of begging him to keep trying.

"Wait." He came to his senses. "Whoa. Rae... did you just admit..."

"The name is still Rachel to you," she muttered. "And two, don't think this changes anything. My rules still stand. You will not go near my carnation. And you will not go near that corner of my garden. You can, however, have this."

She held out a pot to him. There were a few sticks of deeply colored violet flowers growing out of it. Some of them were slightly bluish, others faintly magenta. Packed together neatly, they grew in little bunches along the sturdy stems.

"Only if you like."

"O-of course. What are they?"

"Hyacinths [1]. The ones we planted on the trees are orchids [2]. I have another strand of those too, if you like."

"Oh. Nah, I couldn't. They're your flowers."

"You seemed to like them, though."

"Well, yeah, they're cool. But I can't just take 'em from you. Like, you bought 'em and grew 'em yourself-"

"Garfield. My financial situation is quite fine. And although you may find that I am uncomfortable sharing myself, I do not mind sharing my flowers with someone who will appreciate them."

A bit of color rose in his cheeks. He took the string of orchids from her gratefully, placing them carefully in the pot with the hyacinths.

"Thanks. I, uh... I'll probably plant them on some of the trees in that cemetery later today. After dinner."

"I see," Rachel shifted awkwardly.

Her lips parted for a moment, but nothing came out.

"Yes?"

"It's nothing." She turned. "I'll see you whenever you want to stop by again." The dark haired girl began moving back toward her little house.

"Wait. I gotta go put these back at my place, but maybe after... want to get dinner with me?"

Rachel stopped in her tracks. "Will anyone else be there?"

"I mean Victor might want to come, but I can just say I'll be eatin' alone."

"Then it's fine. Go have dinner with him."

She retreated further. Garfield stepped forward. "Come on. You said I was your friend, right? Friends do stuff together. Promise I won't be obnoxious."

...

"Let me change, then."

...

Her lips curved up, just a little. Behind her, Garfield was positively grinning.

* * *

[1] Violet hyacinths are typically associated with forgiveness, regret, and sorrow.

[2] Orchids symbolize many things, including elegance, beauty, strength, dignity, and respect.

A/N: Couple things. Garfield's history here is modified a bit, since some of his history in the comics/show isn't exactly applicable to the real world setting here.

Also, I've mentioned this in some other stories, but as a reminder, I don't revise most of the things I post - what you see are my first drafts. So, if you catch errors or want it written a bit better, just let me know (like maybe this chapter could use some improvement...).


	6. Verbena

Disclaimer: Don't own Teen Titans

Going to try to get this story done quickly before classes take off. Don't know if I'll succeed, but I'll try.

* * *

 _Days pass in quiet repose. Like the leaves parting from the autumnal trees, we have drifted to where fate calls our lives. He has moved on. I... cannot._

 _Intimacy and profane desire breed wicked hunger, malicious lust. Where there is passion, there is peril, where the ardor of friendship and romance harbors threatening danger. The cold distance of amicability holds no risk. Faint acquaintance brings no joy, but also no fear. At an arm's length, we are separated by the glassy mirror of listless, restless wandering. I wait here and watch, as he slips away..._

 _No._

 _..._

 _Like the black raven pursues its mate, he showers me with his affections, perhaps not in romance, but in friendship. And I have only met him with the cold hand of rejection. Such a relationship cannot last. If it were to fade... it would be my fault._

 _He tolerates me like no other. Acrid words belie the gentleness with which he treats me. Why? What does he see in me? I am beneath his attention. It would be better if he moved on with his life and forgot about me. Is that what I want?_

 _..._

 _A one-sided friendship cannot last. He has put forth his utmost effort, given me a glimpse into his own, wounded heart to show me that he understands... to show me what he wants. He has shown himself to me so that I know - he seeks my companionship not for any irreverent, coarse reason, but only as someone who can understand him. I know what he wants. He's not the problem._

 _The problem is, I don't know what I want._

 _..._

 _I don't understand it. Why did he pick me? Why, no matter how much I shun him, does he keep coming back?_

 _..._

 _Maybe I really should try harder to be friends with him. It's just..._

 _I'm afraid._

* * *

"You are quite right. This one really does not grow well." Rachel knelt by a small bush in the back of an otherwise mostly empty garden.

She looked around. Colored leaves blanketed the ground, marking the end of autumn, nearing the onset of winter. There were a few violet flowers here and there - as a courtesy, she had given some to Garfield to plant in his own garden - but they did not seem to be doing so well either. Frowning, the dark haired girl patted the soil, then looked up.

"It could be the soil. If there is a lack of nutrients, nothing will grow well here. It could also depend on what is actually inside the ground here. Not pests, necessarily, but certain bugs can be detrimental to plant growth. Like the Ash tree plague."

"Oh."

Rachel touched one of the flowers on the bush. There were a few white roses, but they were just that - a couple flowers, and that was it. From what he had told her, only a couple would pop up every so often, so that was really all there was.

"Did you ever fertilize the garden?"

"No."

"It could be the nutrients, then. If you rake away the leaves every fall, that also won't help. Leaves aren't good if you want to grow grass, but they are crucial for revitalizing the soil." She stood again, then eyed the blonde haired boy beside her. "Something wrong?"

"No, nothing. It's just... you know."

There was a gentleness to her eyes that belied the smoothness of her otherwise expressionless face. "You can talk to me, you know. I won't make fun of you."

"Nah, it's just... guys aren't really supposed to talk about this kind of stuff. You know."

"And who came up with such a silly rule?"

"Nobody." Garfield jumped a little as she touched his hand. "Whoa."

"Yes?"

"I thought you didn't like touching."

"I normally don't. You want to share your thoughts?"

He took a deep breath. Deep, glassy pools of mauve shifted awkwardly away, but her fingers never left contact with his own. "I'm just being silly."

She waited.

"I'm just disappointed. In myself. Sometimes I can't help but remember the past. I couldn't do anything to save my parents. And after they were gone... I couldn't get my life together. To be honest, I'm still kinda a mess. I feel like I can't do anything right. Hell, I can't even grow my own mother a couple roses."

Rachel pursed her lips and studied his face silently. Sensing something suspicious, she pulled his sleeve up a little. Right as she did so, Garfield pulled back, but not before she caught sight of several bruises on his arm. Now that she thought about it, the scrapes on his knuckles weren't normal for only planting flowers either.

"You got in another fight."

Garfield cursed under his breath. He turned back to her, looking slightly apologetic. "Sorry you had to hear that. I just didn't intend for you to find out, but you're too observant."

The violet eyed girl looked down, then back up. She stretched a hand forward, but paused, hesitant. "You seem to get in a lot of fights."

"Some guys were harassin' Kori when we went out yesterday. Grayson had overtime, so he wasn't there. Was just Vic 'n me."

"I seem to recall you mentioning that she could stand up for herself."

"What kind of guy just sits back while his friends are gettin' picked on, though? Vic's the kind of guy to reason it out with ya. I'm not. I'm not gonna just stay still while they try gropin' her."

"You could have just left."

"Hell no. Someone's gotta teach those guys they can't just take whatever they want."

Rachel's eyes darkened as she looked back toward the rose bush. "You don't need to get hurt over it, though."

Garfield turned toward her. "You're not seriously tellin' me that I'm wrong."

Her dark clothing billowed around her as the wind blew by. Dusky, violaceous eyes stirred briefly. "You couldn't possibly be," she sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I'm just surprised that you would be so willing to throw yourself in harm's way to defend someone else."

"Helps me vent."

She raised an eyebrow.

"F-for real. That's part of it. You've seen me mad before."

"I have been on the receiving end."

He winced. "I'm really sorry about that."

The ethereal paleness of her face belied the shadows masking her eyes. She put a finger to her lip, fidgeting. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring that up. I deserved it. Please go on."

At the look in her eyes, he let it drop. "Look. I'm not the calmest person. I get angry sometimes. Especially when people give me a reason to be. I told you, my uncle abused me for _years_. I know what it's like. I don't want anyone I know to ever have to go through that. And before you say it, I know that's not what happened to Kori. It was just some guys bein' dickheads to her. But that's how abuse starts. I'm not gonna let that happen."

"You'd... put yourself in danger to stop it."

"Yeah. I mean, who wouldn't?"

Rachel chewed on her lip. _Many people._ "Garfield..." she shook her head. "It sucks that you had to go through that. I wish it hadn't happened."

The sudden sincerity in her voice was very soothing. Even though she had listened to his past several times and had been sympathetic each time... the slight insistence in her voice told him that she really did care.

He smiled. "Yeah, I know it sucked for a while. But at some point, you gotta just look past that. Don't dwell on the past forever. Right now, I've got good friends, I'm doin' decent in classes, and I've got someone who'll listen to me whenever I'm feelin' down. I can't just forget about it, but it's not like I'm gonna let it eat away at me forever. My friends are helpin' me live my life out like I should. You included."

"Me? I didn't really..."

"You've listened to me talk about my problems like what, a billion times now?"

"Eleven," Rachel admitted. "It doesn't make it any better. Me listening won't change your past. It won't fix those years of your life-"

"That's because you're fixatin' on all the bad stuff that happened to me back then. None of it affects me now. Sure, it messed me up a bit, but everyone's helped me get back on my feet. It's because I got people like you to support me. 's why I get mad when I see some assholes try to harass the people I care about. You might not think so, but it's totally worth gettin' into fights over."

She bent her head down, mulling over his words. "You'd get into a fight for your friends just for that?" Somehow, she kept asking the same question over and over.

Garfield looked at her curiously. "Definitely. Hell, I'd defend anyone who I saw was in trouble."

Rachel's eyes were pitch black when she met his gaze. It held for just a single moment, and then she refused to look up again. Her voice was feathery light. "You're a good person."

The blonde haired boy blinked in surprise. It was silent for a few moments. "That's... the first compliment I've ever heard you give me."

"I've called you pretty before."

"I meant serious one."

Rachel chewed on her lip. "I'm sorry."

"What? People normally like receiving compliments, ya kno-"

"No," she shook her head. "I'm sorry for being so mean to you all the time. And being so moody. You shouldn't have to deal with me."

Garfield moved over. He reached forward tentatively. She seemed distracted. A hand at her chin tilted her face up.

"Please don't touch-" Rachel's voice died on her lips.

Bright, verdant eyes pierced into her bottomless pits of darkness. He was close, too close for comfort. Despite the earnestness in his expression, despite the honesty with which he looked at her... she tried to force her eyes shut, but suddenly her body refused to obey her. She blinked rapidly, seeing not the vibrant chartreuse, but eyes bleeding with malevolent crimson. The air stank of stale alcohol. He was barely touching her, and yet it was there again, the rough grasp of calloused hands at her arms, pounding and beating at her in throbbing blows.

Her eyes widened. In front of her, the vision of the man with two crimson eyes shifted into someone else. A single eye stared at her through a black and orange mask, his deep voice speaking to her like the hiss of a snake. _It is a pity that it has come to this, little girl. If you had just obeyed your father, I wouldn't have to do this. As it is-_

"Logan! What are you doing out there? Get in here and- _o_ _h!_ You've got a lady friend-"

"Richard," Garfield let go and spun around. "When'd you get back?"

"Just now." A tall, darkly handsome man stepped out toward them. "Got off work early. Who's your friend?"

"Someone from class. We're tryin' to have a conversation here."

"Oh? A conversation, huh," a suggestive smile touched Richard Grayson's lips. "You were getting pretty close for-"

"Don't be a dick, Dick." Garfield snapped.

At the edginess in his friend's tone, Richard's smile disappeared. They had been friends long enough that he understood what that meant. "Alright, man. We'll wait for you before we start up the movie."

Richard disappeared. Garfield turned back. The girl was trembling under his touch.

"Rachel, I'm sorry. I didn't- he didn't know. I just thought... I just want to help you," he pleaded with her helplessly, but it was hard... it was too hard, not knowing what secrets went on in the confines of her head.

She closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. Moments passed in silence. The trembling stopped. Her hand came up and she swept his away from her chin. Her fingers were icy cold as they brushed against him.

"It's fine. He didn't know," she repeated exactly what he had just said. Once-violet eyes opened; now, they were an utterly mirthless black. "Something like that wouldn't upset me."

"Rachel, you looked _so scared_."

"I'm fine." She shook her head. "I haven't been sleeping well. I think the lack of sleep is getting to me."

"That's an excuse and you know it."

Her lips opened in protest, but she sighed, knowing that being stubborn about it wouldn't be any use. "Fine. Fine... I'll admit that I was a bit startled by you touching me. I told you I don't like it."

"My bad. It's sort of what people do when they try comforting each other, so I thought... eh, I probably shouldn't have."

"I'm not blaming you." Her eyes slowly brightened again. "Garfield, I... I really appreciate your trying to help me. I really do. I think," she sighed. "I think we both can see that I have issues."

A slow grin spread across the blonde boy's face, but he hid it quickly, not wanting to risk upsetting her. "You finally admitted it."

She nodded. "You've been through a lot, so I think you knew much earlier. I just didn't want to tell you."

"Why?"

"You shouldn't be wasting your time on me."

Garfield put a hand over his face, groaning. "You for real? How can you say something like that?"

"Because-"

"Forget me for a sec. That's not fair to _you_. You support me and listen to my problems all the time. Why shouldn't I do the same for you?"

"Because-" Rachel shook her head. "Just..."

"You can't even come up with a good reason!"

"I don't-"

"Rachel," Garfield reached forward again, but stopped when she flinched. "I know what it's like to feel totally alone. I know what it's like to have nobody care about you. Please. I don't want you to feel that way. I'm not sayin' this to manipulate you or anything. I'm saying this because I think we're friends and I don't wanna see you suffer."

Violet eyes glimmered for a moment before she tore her gaze away, staring stubbornly at the white roses. She whispered something under her breath.

"You have to talk louder. I can't hear you."

The dark haired girl turned back, forcing herself to stay calm. "I told you I'm okay right now. I don't know why you don't believe me, but I really am fine. I don't want to keep you from your movie. You shouldn't keep your friends waiting."

"Rachel..."

Her voice was less cold, more gentle when she gathered her thoughts. "I'm being serious. I'm doing fine. Honestly, just... just having some company once in a while is enough for me. I think I'm okay. Thank you for being willing to talk with me. But I really don't want to keep you from your friends."

"You _are_ one of my friends."

A smile ghosted across her lips. "Garfield. Go have fun. I also have some homework that I need to do for tomorrow, and it's getting late, so I should be getting back now too."

"You're making excuses."

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Whatever you want to call it, but my biology paper isn't going to write itself."

"You serious?"

"I'm dead serious. I put it off for the last moment, so I _really_ need to be going now."

Her lips trembled. She was _lying_ , and he knew it. Yet somehow, she looked a little better now. Maybe it was because the sparkle in her violet eyes was back. Maybe it was because a bit of color had returned to her cheeks. Whatever it was, pushing her too hard for the moment would only make her more stubborn, so Garfield had to settle with accepting her little lack of truth. He watched as she drifted toward the gate, then looked back at him and mouthed a quiet 'thank you'.

The blonde boy gave her a bit of an exasperated look, but still smiled nonetheless. "Thank you too, Rachel."

* * *

Without knowing why, as soon as she got back, she clipped a bundle of violet flowers and tied them together. It was raining again as she began jogging.

Through wind and rain, colored woods and grey streets, she ran through cold droplets of water streaking against her face. The slow crawl of grey clouds in the sky marked the passage of time as light began dimming in the monochrome heavens. The long hours of running came easily enough, perhaps out of habit, perhaps as a means of distraction. In the garden of grey stones, she paused briefly at the entrance before heading down a familiar path.

Rachel knelt in front of one of the stones, pressing her hands together. Violet eyes shifted slowly over the name on the headstone, then toward the sky.

 _Arella Roth. Mother._

The rain slowed to a drizzle. Rachel let it run down her face for a little while. The cool streams of water felt cleansing, running through her clothes and across her smooth, pale skin. She sighed softly, forcing herself to stay calm, then placed a couple of flowers over the grave.

Without knowing why, her feet carried her closer to the center, where another pair of gravestones lay hidden under a nest of trees. Her lips curved up very briefly as she placed the rest of the violet flowers there and pressed her hands together again [1]. Her eyes were dusky as she caught sight of a wilted, white rose on the ground nearby. She touched one of the crinkled petals with cold fingers, then closed her eyes again, trying very hard not to keep herself stable.

 _Thank you, Garfield. I'm beyond your help, but thank you for at least trying._

Rachel bent her head, letting her wet hair shroud her face. She stayed there, motionless, until the sky had deepened into a dark grey nearing the onset of night. In the ever deepening darkness, she began the journey home.

* * *

[1] Verbena is often associated with things like secrecy, creativity, and healing. They are also sometimes thought of as being charms against evil.


	7. Lavender and Wisteria

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans

I know that flowers have specific blooming times, but since I stalled for so long in writing this story, the blooming times won't line up with the seasons. So... we'll attribute some of the inconsistencies to magic. :O

* * *

 _Ding._

The doorbell rang. Rachel got up and peeked out of the window. She opened the door and tilted her head curiously.

"Garfield?"

"Hey, uh, Rae- chel. Are you busy?"

"Not really. Why?"

The blonde haired boy sniffed. "I was kinda wondering if you could help me study."

"Depends on which class."

"Biochem. For the test we have tomorrow."

Rachel pursed her lips. "Thank you for reminded me of that." She muttered sarcastically. "Yes. I suppose I can help."

"I mean, you did really well on the first one, right? You're super smart."

"I still don't like exams. And I'm not that smart."

She looked at him a bit more closely. His face was red, and it wasn't just because it was snowing and cold outside. The huskiness to his voice and the constant sniffling gave it away rather quickly.

"You're sick."

"Uh, a little. Not bad though. We can go somewhere else if you're scared of me being contagious-"

Rachel sighed. "You might as well come in."

"Really?"

"Yes. Do it quickly. You're letting the cold inside."

"Right."

Garfield stepped inside and closed the door. He slipped off his jacket and boots, then looked around.

Come to think of it, it was the first time he had actually been inside her home. It was unsurprisingly neat and tidy. The floor was dark wood and the walls were a mix of black and violet. Scattered around, there were several vases with flowers providing contrasting color amidst a backdrop of dark paintings and sculptures and the dim, color lights from lamps scattered around her living room. It reminded him a little bit of a museum with how much art was scattered around; faintly he wondered how rich she was and looked a bit more closely.

"Yes?"

"How much you buy these for?"

Rachel tilted her head. "Nothing? These are my paintings."

"Whoa. All of 'em? Even the sculptures?"

" _Some_ of the sculptures are not mine. I am less practiced at sculpting so I bought them to learn."

He stared at one of her paintings, one that looked like a rough sketch of a man wearing an orange and black mask. In the painting, the shadowed figure was emerging from a pit of crimson flame, where the colors bled with intense, malevolent color. He only had one visible eye, a cold disk of near black that stared unflinchingly at the four vermilion stars in the pitch-black sky; faintly, he realized that they were supposed to be eyes as well, perhaps those of some sort of demon god or something. There was something disturbing about the whole image, much more so than the other paintings he had seen. It was decidedly unpleasant.

"I don't really like that one either," Rachel murmured.

Garfield seemed transfixed, though the look on his face was anything but enjoyment. "What's he holding?"

"A branding iron."

The quickness of her response _should_ have been suspicious, but he was too absorbed in the malevolent contrast between the jagged sanguine and black hues. Somehow, the style of the painting made it worse. The fact that it was a rough sketch lent everything a distorted quality, where the menace of the masked man and the crimson eyes became something grotesque and utterly inhuman.

"It's, uhm. Interesting."

Rachel shook her head. "You don't like it either."

"It's not bad," Garfield tore himself away. "Just creepy. Really creepy. You're really talented, though. But I thought you were pre-med?"

"I am. This is one of my hobbies."

Green eyes fixated on another painting, of a pale woman with violet hair, standing with arms outstretched in a cascade of light. No. Not quite. He stood closer at first, then farther, then closer again. At first, it had appeared like light, but when he approached within an armspan, it looked more like falling snow. Did it? He stood back again, then it turned into streaks of pale light again. Come to think of it, the whole painting was a bit odd. The dark blotches scattered around the upper areas of the painting had originally looked like birds - crows, or ravens, he supposed - but closer up, they became nothing but blotches of ash, raining down and marring the gentle snowfall.

"Garfield. Stop getting distracted. You won't get any studying done by looking at my paintings."

"Yeah," the blonde boy turned back to her. "My bad. I just really like your art. Hard to believe it's just a thing you do on the side."

Her cheeks were tinged faintly with color. "Thank you. So, biochem?"

Garfield grinned sheepishly and found a cushy chair to sit on. "Yeah. Biochem."

* * *

"Garfield? Garfield, you are not paying attention. What is step four along the glycolysis pathway? You should know this."

"Huh? Fructose something something... I know it's the one that can turn into two things."

Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose. "You were doing well with everything else earlier. How are you not remembering glycolysis? We literally-"

"I know, I know. I kinda have a bit of a headache, okay? Can't think too well right now. Give me a sec."

He leaned to the side and coughed into his elbow. It was partially a result of sickness, but then again, the dark, tranquil atmosphere of her home was very relaxing and he hadn't slept well in a couple days, so it was partially a want to just lie down and sleep off the headache as well. It would have been so easily, especially if she had let him do so, but then again, there was a test tomorrow...

"Garfield? Garfield, come on." Her soft eyes settled on him. "I know you're sick, but you need to get yourself together."

Her words echoed a bit. He felt his ears ring.

"Hello? Garfield, you're tougher than that..."

He groaned. What was the point anyway? It wasn't like he wasn't completely unprepared. At his current level, it would have been easy to at least pass the test. He might've not gotten the grade he wanted, but was that really such a big deal? It would've been easy to make up for it later.

But then again, it would've sounded kind of pathetic. _Oh, I just got a bit sick, so I didn't study and didn't do great. That'll definitely impress Rachel._

 _..._

 _Wait, what?_

 _Since when have I been worried about impressing her?_

 _Maybe when we first met, but not after I got to know her more. I thought we were just gonna be friends. I can't expect someone like her to like me in that way. Wait. Wait wait. Hold up Logan. Since when have I been interested in her like that? Am I... do I like her?_

 _No way. Hell no. She's alright, but I definitely don't like her in that way. It'd be way too awkward. Absolutely not._

The fragrance of flowers brought him out of his thoughts. Rachel set a cup of tea down in front of him. He looked at her curiously. She rolled her eyes.

"It's not poison. Drink up."

"Wha-? For me?"

"No, it's for the invisible man sitting beside you."

He turned instinctively, even though it was obvious that she was being sarcastic. "Hey. Not nice."

She rolled her eyes. "Not my fault you can't tell when I'm being facetious."

"Face- what?"

"Not serious." Her face was as smooth as ever, but the slight tilt at the corners of her lips gave away her amusement. "Take a sip first and wait for a minute. See if it helps."

He did what she asked, then peered into his cup. There were several leaves at the bottom; curiously, they looked violet in color.

"Tastes a bit different than any tea I've ever had."

"That's because you probably haven't had lavender tea before [1]."

"Lavender? You mean like the flowers you grow outside?"

"Grew. During the summer. Yes. It may help you with your ailment."

Garfield took a breath. Surprisingly, it was easier than it had been before - somehow, he felt less congested and the headache faded just a little. "Whoa. That's cool."

"Is it now?" Rachel sprinkled a few leaves into her own cup and poured in some water.

He watched her wrap her hands around the cup, blowing at the steam gently. Suddenly, it hit him. Despite her unassuming appearance, she _was_ attractive. It just took a while to get used to her. _Rachel's not the type of girl to show her emotions so openly. Or be that honest with you. Makes her kind of hard to deal with sometimes, but once you dig a bit, she's actually really cool. She's really, really smart, but she's not really a dick about it. Sometimes she'll tease me, but honestly it's kind of fun. And she's actually really nice too. Is it really that bad if I like her?_

 _She does get kinda moody sometimes, though. She's kinda an ass when that happens._

 _Not her fault. Something obviously happened to her._

 _She still comes across as rude._

 _Yeah, and people never give her a chance. I never would've known how cool she is if I didn't try to get to know her. Also would've never known she was kinda hard to deal with 'cuz something happened in her past. I feel kinda bad for being mean to her before. Like how patient was Vic with me when I was still a mad kid? And all I did was hurt her. And she forgave me for it so quickly._

 _... is it really that bad if I like her?_

"Garfield? You're kind of red. And why are you staring at me?"

She leaned closer. Her pointed, pixie face peered into his own, eyes gleaming with curious, violet light. Come to think of it, she was kind of pretty, in her own, demure way.

 _No, no no! Don't think of her like that. We're just friends._

 _If she liked you too, would you say yes? Logan?_

 _Well..._

 _..._

 _Duh. But there's no way. Rachel confessing her love for anyone? Yeah right. When Hell freezes over. Me saying I like her? Would just make things weird. I think she's cool 'n all that, but no way am I gonna make her feel weird by tellin' her I like her. Gotta back off a bit._

Her eyes pierced into his own. She was a lot closer than normal. Faintly, Garfield remembered that Rachel, in fact, was almost a mind reader and happened to be very good at figuring out what he was thinking just from his expressions. She did look rather suspicious, but said nothing when he came back to his senses.

"Sorry. Zoned out. Tea was really relaxing."

"... I'm sure." Rachel sat back a bit awkwardly.

She _was_ really smart, after all. It was a bit of a mystery as to how she was so perceptive, but maybe she could somehow just sense emotions or something. Garfield held his hands up.

"I'm serious. The tea was really good."

He was grateful that she said nothing and opened the textbook again, pointing to the diagram of the glycolysis pathway. She gave him a tight-lipped smile, then disappeared for a few minutes.

 _Focus, Logan, focus. Havin' Rachel help me is one thing, but her actually encouraging me to do good? I can't just not try. I'm going to do well._

 _..._

When she got back, Rachel found him replicating the figure without the book open. She stared at him, a little impressed as he drew out all of the molecules and wrote out the enzymes from memory. Garfield frowned as he got to the last step, then set his pencil down and happened to look up.

"Oh. Hi."

"You were actually studying."

"Oh. Yeah. I told ya, my grades aren't that bad. I can buckle down and do it when I need to."

"I see. You made only one mistake."

"What? I did?"

"Yes. Step nine. You missed one thing."

"Hmmm..."

"That reaction regenerates ATP."

"What? It does? Gah, you're right..." Garfield sighed, prepared for her to mock his intelligence.

Instead, she offered him a smile and set a cup of tea in front of him. "You'll get it. Just take a bit and you'll remember it. For now, drink some more tea."

"Wha-?"

"Yes?"

"You didn't make fun of me."

Rachel sighed. "I told you. I might not seem like it, but I do care about how other people feel. The way you were looking at me earlier..." she shook her head. "Never mind. You seemed a bit frustrated, so I saw no need to taunt you about it."

"I'm sorry."

"What do you have to be sorry about?" Her voice was softer than before, almost as if she were in a trance. "Either way, drink before it gets cold."

Garfield nodded. He took a sip. The taste and aroma were a bit sharper this time, but it had the same effect as before. She had also put in some sugar, or maybe honey to mellow out the bitter taste and enhance the fragrance.

"This is really good."

"It's _wisteria_ tea [2]. It's not as common as lavender, but I like it more. I do have to grow it myself, however."

Garfield took another sip. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the smell, then set his eyes on her. "Why are you so nice to me?"

Rachel looked away. "I could ask the same to you. Why do you put up with me?"

"I... don't?"

"Don't lie. I was quite rude to you when we first met. I made you so angry several times..."

"Like I said. It's my fault for having a bad temper too. Look. Nobody's perfect, right? When we first met, you didn't just kick me out of your garden. You gave me a chance and listened to me. I thought I'd give you a chance too. Just because you had a bad day doesn't mean you're always like that."

Rachel ran a finger over her lip.

"So, yeah. Hope that makes sense."

She took a sip of her tea. Rachel sniffed at the air, then got up. She returned shortly with a lit candle, and set it down on the table beside them. The smell of fragrant wax filled the air. The dark haired girl slouched down a bit. Violet eyes met verdant jade ones. She was blushing again, but the tension around her eyes made her look slightly uncomfortable.

"I, uh. I'm sorry for looking at you like that."

Rachel didn't move. It was quiet for a minute.

She tapped her finger on the table lightly and closed her eyes. A moment later, the sheet of paper he had been working on was gone, and she had placed a blank one in its place.

"Write it out again."

"You got it."

* * *

"I dunno about you, but I'm exhausted. And it's not even midnight yet."

"You're sick. It's only natural."

"Yeah. I feel like I learned a lot, though. Even did well on the practice exam. I really owe you."

"It wasn't a big deal," Rachel murmured. "Explaining things to you helps me learn as well."

Garfield yawned. Her soft eyes settled on him.

"I suggest that you forget about reviewing things more and just sleep. In that state, you won't remember anything anyway."

"... Yeah." The blonde boy rubbed his eyes. "I probably won't. If I get up early, though, I'll still have a couple hours-"

"Garfield. Get some rest. You can even stay here if you like."

"... nah. I don't wanna make more trouble for you."

Rachel pursed her lips. "You aren't really."

"... and what if I was some kind of serial killer... or... or... a kidnapper! Then you'd be in trouble-"

"Garfield. We have been alone how many times? You've never done anything to truly threaten me. I don't think I need to be worried."

"Nah. I'm okay. I live a couple blocks away. It's not that long of a walk. Rae, I really appreciate your help. I mean it. But I don't want to be more trouble for you, and plus, I like my bed anyway. So I'm gonna head home and sleep."

 _Rae._

In his tired, ill state, the nickname had slipped out inadvertently, but never had it sounded so warm as it had then. There was something about the way he had said it that was so... so endearing. She couldn't bring herself to chastise him for it.

He donned his jacket and boots, and stepped outside. Outside, the night was quiet in peaceful snowfall.

"So. G'night. If I don't see you before, good luck on the test tomorrow."

Her eyes were dark pools, tinged slightly with... disappointment?... as she wrapped her arms around herself. "Good night, Garfield."

* * *

[1] Lavender can be associated with love and devotion, but is also related to royalty.

[2] Wisteria is commonly affiliated with mystery and beauty.

[1], [2] Lavender and Wisteria also make very fragrant teas. However, don't make the tea using anything but the flower part (i.e. no seeds, stems, etc.), and remember that certain teas can always set off allergies.

A/N: I admit I was a bit tired while writing this. Promise next chapter will be better!


	8. Geranium

Disclaimer: Teen Titans isn't mine

I think the rating of this story needs to go up to 'M' for subject matter. I'll try to keep it clean of any explicit material, but since some of the thematic material is kind of not suitable for younger people, I'll do this for next chapter.

* * *

 _Time passes on flowing wings of wind. Leaves of autumn drift aimlessly through jaded sunlight and dusky twilight. Faded hues cast a soft blank amidst these metal spires and silvery planes. Long days transition into long nights, the slow march of life passing onward in never ending stupor. Life springs forth, a shimmering cascade of violet color and verdant life; it blooms rapidly, briefly, then sets on the eve of winter. Demure blossoms flower, then wilt, dying slowly in the quiet evening of fall. The night grows longer.  
_

 _Darkness flits between phases of life, a muted shroud cast in passionless silence. The deep, bottomless worlds of dreams grudgingly give way to transient wakefulness in the gaudy light of day. The arc of the sun across the sky marks the struggle for consciousness, to ward off the eternal darkness of dreams and nightmares. The weeks and months pass. It is the same day after day. Boredom and lethargy pervade everything. I find no enjoyment in anything. The day passes into evening, and at the setting sun, darkness returns. Where the golden ardor of day lengthens into dark, cold nights, drifting leaves fallen in floating color shift to the barest flakes of snow, a pristine white meandering down from the sky. Sleep calls._

 _He comes to me in my dream. He's always there, watching me. I can feel his grip around my throat. I can feel the weight of his blows against me. The heavy weight of black nightmares seizes my body and refuses to let go. Each moment passes like an eternity in Hell. In the nagging depths of my subconscious, he is always waiting._

 _The aching chill of winter sets in. Snowflakes float through pale skies in aimless clusters. Drifting like clouds, empty and purposeless, lost souls wait as the cold throes of nightmarish illusion come to claim them again. The night is long. I'm alone. Sleep embraces me in its deathly repose. At the dusk of consciousness, crimson eyes bleed through the fabric of reality. Blood dyes white snow into sickly vermilion. He's there, waiting for me. In the depths of this hellish limbo, there's nothing else but him... and me. He comes closer. Dispassionate lethargy gives way to tepid tension. He's coming. The air stirs with restless anxiety. Fear..._

 _Sanguine slits open in the darkness. The malevolent eyes of demons draw closer. Blackness grows thicker and heavier with soul-crushing hatred. It's suffocating. I can't... breathe. Two eyes fuse into one. The mask of the devil greets me from the pit of hell. Metal hands grab my arms. The searing hot burning of branding iron scorches my skin. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt. I'm used to it. It doesn't really hurt._

 _..._

 _Someone's calling my name?_

 _..._

 _Light and dark paint a mosaic patchwork in quiescent dreams. Darkness fades to silent repose with warm breaths amidst cold winter. Enraged lashes fade to hesitant, gentle caresses, touch of compassionate heat in frigid snowfall. Screaming, ranting voices quiet into soft whispers. The stench of stale beer mellows to the fragrance of white roses._

 _..._

 _Rachel._

 _..._

 _That's my name._

 _..._

 _He's gone. I'm alone._

 _..._

 _Light pierces the veil of perpetual darkness. Daylight breaks night's visage. Consciousness ends the blackness of nightmarish sleep._

* * *

"Rachel? You okay?"

Violet eyes opened into little slits. She felt a touch at her shoulder, followed by a quick gasp and hushed whispering.

"Yo Vic. Go on ahead. No, dude, I'm not in the mood to argue. She won't like it if she sees too many people 'round. Dude, go."

The freezing, dark haired girl curled up instinctively, her body trying to conserve heat. A warm jacket found its way over her shoulders and a pair of hands helped her to her feet.

"We're getting you home right now."

Her breath came out as an airy puff in the veil of wintry snowfall. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Your face is fuckin' blue already."

"Don't curse around me, please."

"Sorry."

Rachel squinted. Yep. It was him. Of course, it had to be.

Not that it was a bad thing, not really, but... he just didn't get it. Yes, even if there wasn't a lot of snow, it was damned cold out and falling asleep in that for hours like she had was bound to get her killed. Yes, it would have made some people somewhat sad to see a young girl like her die like that on the side of the street. _What he doesn't get is that I don't care. Me dying won't make anyone particularly sad anymore. People will just lament it as a tragedy, then move on with their lives. I don't particularly care if I live or die. Why is he trying so hard to help me? I don't want it._

Rachel pursed her lips, not realizing that he was actually holding her hand; she was numb all over.

 _Father - Trigon used to leave me outside like this all the time. It's like that time... when he kept me out there with that man... no. No. Just... Garfield doesn't get it. I'm used to this._

 _He..._

Faintly, she recalled that he had been talking to someone else. And, faintly, she realized that he was still talking to her, but his voice sounded distant somehow, as if he were speaking to her from behind a glass wall. She had trouble focusing her vision when she turned toward him.

"Garfield..." her voice came out softer than she would have liked. "Go hang out with your friends. I'm fine."

The green eyed boy groaned. She obviously wasn't paying attention to whatever he was saying. He wasn't going to get through to her with words, but luckily, she was also far too weak in her current state to even attempt to protest his help. Her clothes felt like they had been doused in icy water, freezing to the bone, and the skin of her hands was alarmingly cold. It felt almost like he was making contact with a block of ice, not another person. For once, she wasn't complaining him touching her either; in actuality, he was supporting much of her body weight with his shoulders, and to him, it was a little scary how light and thin she was.

As they approached her house, he glanced at the garden. There were still a few flowers here and there, but most of the remaining plant life was ivy and evergreen shrubs. At the edges, the little cold stems of hibernating plants hovered over wilted petals, hidden under the protective cover of still-green leaves. Closer to the center, however, there were still a few violet flowers blooming on the ground, their little petals darkly hued in little clusters [1]. It was a little weird that so many were still growing in the heart of winter, but then again, it was also strange that the ever-present carnation was still there as well. The vibrant, deep red gleamed in fiery contrast to the dark mauve of the surrounding flowers and the palest snow dusting over the garden. His eyes remained fixed to it for several minutes, the brilliant color somehow totally at odds with everything else, a single point of attention amidst the shadowy violet and walls of green.

Her soft coughing reminded him to move on. As he passed by, he threw a glance toward the corner of her garden that she never let him near. Curiosity bubbled up for a moment, but it would have been a gross breach of trust to disregard her words while she was practically unconscious in his arms. Tearing his gaze away, he set her down at the doorstep.

"Rachel. We gotta get you inside. You have the key?"

She tried to speak, but no sound came out. Her cold fingers fumbled at her side for a moment and she pulled out a little key. He slipped it out of her hand, put it in the lock, and after a bit of work, the door opened. Warm air enveloped both of them.

Garfield helped her to the couch and watched as she collapsed on it almost immediately. Rachel closed her eyes and rested her head against a soft cushion. He touched her hand briefly again, then felt a tiny way up her forearm. He had felt ice that was warmer than her.

Why would she even do such a thing? What kind of idiot would just stay outside in the cold winter for hours wearing nothing but a light jacket? Did she have a death wish? Or...

Studying the dark shadows under her eyes and the gaunt slope of her cheek, he realized it then. It wasn't for sure, but... maybe she had been trying to commit suicide? _No. No way. She's..._

The blonde haired boy's hands trembled. _It's not like I ignored her. I tried to be good friends with her. She helps me study. We get food. We..._ the more he thought about it, the worse it got. _I should have tried harder. She looks so sad. I should've made more of an effort to help. Even if I didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable by getting too close... I knew... I totally knew something bad happened to her. But I didn't do anything._

 _She needs help._

"Don't look at me like that," Rachel murmured. "I'm fine. I'm just tired. You don't need to look at me like I have depression or anything."

Even with only the slight glimmer of her eyes through her lashes, he knew what she was trying to tell him. _Don't pity me. It's not worth it._

"You _wanted_ to die," the accusation spilled out before he could stop it. "I... we've known each other for a bit, right? We're decent friends. Why didn't you want me to help? Why didn't you tell me?"

"You're wrong," Rachel intoned breathlessly. Her words held no force at all. "I was just tired. I... it's not like I was trying to kill myself."

Her mind wasn't working properly. Her excuses were only half-hearted, and even he could tell that she didn't really believe what she was saying. Curled up like that, her face pale and colorless, she looked cold and miserable. There was no way she had thought it was a good place to sleep. She knew exactly what she had been doing. Yet, in that state, there was no way arguing with her would be a good idea either. Her exhausted appearance told him that she had very little energy left.

"I'll make you something," Garfield spoke suddenly. "Just wait a few minutes."

 _It'd be good to make her something to eat, but I should probably give her a warm drink first. Maybe some tea. What'd she give me that one time? Lavender? That'll do._

There was a little kettle in her kitchen; he filled it with some water and while waiting for it to boil, looked in her fridge. _Huh. She doesn't have a lot of stuff. Maybe she doesn't like cookin'. Well, this'll have to do._

A few minutes later, the blonde haired boy returned with a mug of tea, a jam sandwich, and some eggs. He put them on the table near the couch. Rachel opened an eye, shaking her head.

"Not hungry."

Her stomach disagreed rather noisily. Garfield groaned. "Here. Open your mouth."

He blew on the tea a bit and lifted it to her lips. She drank thirstily, despite her protesting words, streaks of warmth flooding through her body. It took several minutes, but eventually, the frigid chill pervading her body receded slowly as she regained sensation.

"Wait up. Let me get you more. Please eat something."

Garfield added a spoonful of honey to the second cup, and when he walked back over, he found her sitting up and nibbling a little at the sandwich, a tiny bit of color returned to her face. She murmured a quiet 'thank you' as he handed her the mug and promptly began warming her hands with the hot liquid. He sat on the chair across from her, looking out the window where the snowfall continued in an everlasting cascade. The haunting paleness of drifting white floated aimlessly here and there, blown about by the wind. Like falling souls, meandering around, they descended from the sky in a silent, unending march.

The sound of a plate moving brought him out of the vision and he looked down. She had eaten only half of the sandwich and a few bites of egg, but had already pushed the food away.

"Dude."

Rachel sipped at the tea. "I'm done."

"You have to eat more than that."

"Just thinking about food makes me feel sick," she muttered.

"Rachel. I know your appetite isn't good. Obviously. But people need food to function. You can't survive on tea alone."

She opened her mouth to protest, but reminded herself that saying such a thing rashly would do her no good. Sighing, she ate a little more to humor him, and then the sensation really did begin to make her feel sick, and she pushed it away again.

"I can't." At the look on his face, she sighed. "You know I don't eat a lot."

"... Fine. But you need to warm up somehow."

"I'm okay now." She brushed her fingers against his hand. Though she was still a little cold, it wasn't the deathly chill he had felt from her before. She offered him a little smile. "You didn't need to do that for me, but... thank you, Garfield."

"Rachel, you were gonna die if you stayed out there too long."

Her eyes told him that she didn't care. She realized it and looked away. "Why do you even care about me?"

"You'd rather I not give a sh- a crap about you?"

The dark haired girl sighed. "It's not that I don't like it. I'm really grateful to have someone like you look out for me. But just... why?"

"Because it's obvious something bad happened to you. I don't know what, and I don't wanna force you to tell me if you really don't want to, but I can't stand seeing you like this. I know we might've gotten off to a rocky start, but believe me when I say that someone like you doesn't deserve to be depressed like this."

"I'm not depressed," she intoned helplessly. "I'm not sad. I'm not unhappy." She whispered it like a chant, over and over under her breath.

"Rae. You've helped me with my problems a ton already. You've done a lot for me already. You've given me money, helped me in classes, and we both know you're the one leaving flowers for my mom and dad. You're really a nice person."

"Nobody's ever called me that."

"Nobody ever cared to get to know you."

She chewed her lip and remained silent at that.

"Look. I care about you. I want to help. I told you how much it hurts me to see people who're depressed, especially if somethin' bad happened to them. Or even... forget about that for one moment and think about all the things you've done for me. I've got to at least pay that back somehow. You gotta let me do _something_ for you."

"You... already have."

"Saving you from freezin' to death under a mountain of snow doesn't count. That's a common courtesy from any decent human being."

She didn't respond. Her eyes were transfixed on something else; he followed her gaze and realized that she was staring at her own painting behind him, the one with the one-eyed man wearing an orange and black mask. At that moment, something about that fiery image was deeply unsettling.

"Ra... chel?"

Violet eyes squeezed shut. Something fought and fought to break out of her, but she refused to let it out. Hands trembling, she fought it down, only the slightest tightness at the corners of her eyes giving away the strain of keeping her face smooth.

Rachel opened her eyes a sliver. It would not go away.

Above her, between Garfield's face and her own body, a shroud of misty, grey darkness separated them.

* * *

 _Trance_

Her mother's face appeared. A hand reached toward the dark haired girl. She instinctively responded, reaching forward as well, their fingers drawing closer and closer together. Time stopped. The background faded away, and she met the gaze of her mother's soft, violet eyes.

 _"Rachel. I've missed you."_

Their fingertips met. At the point of contact, the woman's hand disintegrated into floating ash. Rachel's eyes went wide.

 _"Arella. Mother-"_

 _Weak. Soft. That's all you are, daughter. You don't have what it takes to survive in this world. Miserable thing._

Malicious whispers rang through the air. Rachel held her hands over her ears. It did nothing to stop the insidious words.

 _Come now, Rachel. What use is there in trying to shut me out? I am the only person who can help you. I am the only person you have left._

"No. No, I have- I have friends. I have... I have people who care about me. Arella-"

 _Arella? Silly girl, not even your own mother cares about you._

 _"Yes she does!"_

 _Tell me, dear daughter. If your mother truly cared about you, then why, in all these years, has she not come down here once to try to save you?_

Rachel pursed her lips. How many years had it been? _Nine._

Nine years in the hell beneath their house, and not once had Arella come down to check on her at the end of every night. It was only a slow crawl up the stairs, cold numbness, then warm arms around her body, soft words of encouragement, but that was it. Nothing else. Nothing to stop her from being dragged down into the pit of darkness come nightfall.

 _"Because you would have just hurt her too. You're evil! I hate you. I hate you!"_

 _If you hate me so much, daughter, then come kill me. Do to me what I did to you. Look at me. If you truly hate me, then kill me._

She squeezed her eyes shut. "No."

The word escaped her lips in a breathless whisper. Laughter echoed in her head.

 _So soft. So weak. Such a fragile thing._

Her eyes flew open again as she felt something cold and metal being placed into her hand. Violet eyes shifted to the side as she saw the image of a gun in her hand. She stared back straight in front of her, where the grey shroud had turned into something pitch black, where the cloud of ash that had been her mother was instead the dark, malevolent shape of a man with crimson eyes.

A hard grip wrenched her wrist upward and forced her to point the gun at him.

 _Dearest Rachel, no matter how hard you try to escape it, you will always be daddy's little girl. Now, if you truly hate me that much, all the power is in your hands. Do it._

Rachel's finger tightened on the trigger. "I... I can't."

 _No? Perhaps a little encouragement is necessary. Your anger is a powerful thing, daughter. Use it well._

The vermilion eyes fused together. Beneath the plane of a split mask, a single eye stared back at her. The voice echoing in her head was smoother, almost drawling as it spoke to her.

 _Don't hesitate. Get it over with, girl._

Her hands trembled. She squeezed the trigger a little tighter. Her muscles burned with tension.

 _You know you want to._

"I... shouldn't."

 _Silly Rachel. So naive. This isn't about what you should or should not do. Girl, this is what about you can and cannot do. If you want to do it, and you can, then why do you still hesitate? Take the vengeance that is rightfully yours. Take the lives of those that you hate._

"It's not right."

 _Who cares?_

She gritted her teeth. The air grew cold, as if she had been doused in freezing water. Momentarily frozen like a block of ice, she felt a little spark inside her. It was just a little, fiery heartbeat pulsating with quiet anger, snapping at her to pull the trigger and end her misery.

The bullet pierced the mask cleanly. As it did so, orange and black faded away revealing the horrified face of her mother dissipating in a longing flow of darkened ash.

 _Yes. Good, good! You're learning. There's still hope for you. Perhaps one day, you'll follow in the footsteps of your old man._

Arella disappeared into the monochromatic veil of tinted obsidian. Everything felt numb. The strength left everything but her arms. Violet eyes deepened gradually to opaque darkness. She raised the gun again and pointed it at the sanguine eyes above her. They narrowed.

 _You wouldn't dare._

She took a breath. He was right, really. She wouldn't. So, she pointed it at herself and-

* * *

 _Conscious_

"Rachel... Rae, you're scaring me."

She blinked several times as her eyes brightened slowly into their usual violet color. Soft breaths fell from her frozen lips.

"You were talking to yourself."

"I... was?"

"Yes. You were talking about your mother. Well, it sounded like you were talking _to_ her."

Misty eyes stared at his face. She felt cold, distant. She was responding to him, but somehow it felt like she wasn't there. The Rachel he normally talked to was gone, faded to somewhere deep inside her beneath the layers of black ice shimmering in her eyes. Garfield reached forward.

"Hey."

"Don't touch me."

Her words lacked force, but they also lacked grief. Her voice was cold and brittle, like crystalline flowers of ice. He remained in place, hand stretched just barely away from her face, waiting for her to respond.

The dark haired girl shifted slowly and grabbed the cup of tea on the table. It was cold. A frown touched her lips.

"Here. Wait one moment."

Garfield returned with a cup of fragrant, steaming liquid and handed it to her. She held it. Warmth spread through her fingers, and suddenly she seemed more aware again, streaks of light returning to the jaded mauve of her glassy eyes.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"For what?"

She didn't bother explaining it. No. She couldn't? Rachel touched her lips, then met his gaze. Earnest affection bloomed in verdant color. Everything about him radiated warmth, from the deep color of his eyes to the flushed blood in his cheeks and the heat radiating from his outstretched hand. She looked away. _I'm sorry, Garfield. I can't give you what you want. It would be better if you didn't care so much..._

"I need to be alone."

He stared at her incredulously. "You're in denial."

"No, I'm not."

Their eyes met for what seemed like an eternity. The dark circles under her eyes were more apparent than ever, liquid amethyst cast in black shadow, sparkling demurely in amaranthine darkness. Her face was still - too still. The black veil of her hair and the streaks of her brows belied the pale mask of her face. In the frozen winter, time stopped as well.

...

Abruptly, Rachel gasped.

"I need to be alone," she repeated.

"I want to help."

"Then please go."

"You need someone here."

"Garfield. I think I can determine for myself when I need someone here and when I do not."

"I'm beginning to doubt that."

She pursed her lips. "We've been over this before."

He sighed. "But this time it's obvious."

"I need to be alone," it seemed to be the only thing Rachel could say.

Garfield sat back. He sighed. They _had_ gotten into a fight about it before. Yes, she definitely had been displeased that he had just assumed what she wanted back then. But this time truly felt different. It truly felt like... like she needed _someone_. And yet...

Maybe reading people wasn't his thing. _I'm not a mind reader, unlike her. Maybe if I stay, it'll get even worse. Maybe she really wants me to go. I mean... god, girls are complicated. I don't mean it's a bad thing, but it makes her really hard to help. I just... I guess I just gotta be patient with her._

"Alright. Just... remember to text me if you need anything. You promise you'll be okay alone?"

"I'll be fine."

"I'm only two blocks away. So don't hesitate to call if you need to. Okay?"

Rachel looked up and nodded. Her gaze never left him as he got up and walked toward the door. Her eyes shimmered a bit as the door closed, and she fought down a bead of disappointment. Still, she didn't move, not until daylight faded into the glowing hues of sunset and night began to fall.

* * *

 _Time passes on flowing wings of wind. Flakes of winter drift softly in boundless, ivory radiance. The world is cast in monochrome hues, where the sky gleams an iridescent white, our world is cast in drab grey, and the passage of time slowly fades all into utter blackness. Floating snowflakes march on, falling souls meandering aimlessly, alone and cold, deathly patterns of white ice. Black petals fall from the sky briefly, shattered under the stagnant descent of frozen tears. The black flower blooms briefly, amidst the perennial violets, then brightens to white in the ceaseless breath of winter. Daylight ends. The night grows longer.  
_

* * *

[1] Geraniums are associated with gentility, melancholy, and friendship. Perennial Geraniums, as the name implies, live for more than two years, so you could also think of them as 'marking the passage of time', if that floats your boat.


	9. Black Rose

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans

In most of my stories, there's usually this one chapter that's inexplicably dark and/or screwed up. This is that chapter. I tried very hard to tone it down, but it's still not pleasant. That being said, I promise (promise promise promise) things will get better after. So...

 _Warning: this chapter has violence and psychological torture. And trigger warning for abuse and similar stuff._

Luckily, this chapter is mostly free of graphic/explicit material, but just in case, the warning is there. The only graphic material you might find is abuse-related (but I got rid of explicit violence/other stuff for the most part).

Also, I stayed up late getting this done, so let me know if there are any mistakes or awkward passages and I can fix them.

* * *

Night fell like black petals falling from the twilight heavens. Silent footsteps carried her through darkened rooms in disquiet snowdrifts. In her dismal, lonely abode, the demure fragrance of black flowers evoked unwanted memory held in dreadful darkness. Glassy eyes shifted back and forth in a lulled trance, consumed with images of jaded reminiscence.

 _Searing pain blazed through her head. Each heartbeat felt like a hammer blow on her body, throbbing agonizingly with her rapid pulse. She tilted her head, watching as her own blood spilled from bruised wounds._

 _Wordlessly, her tormentor drew closer and kicked her again. A sharp pain in her ribs told her where he had contacted her body, and the flames burning in her head blazed hotter. Sweat and blood dyed her hair crimson._

 _Hours passed in jaded darkness. Awareness returned in streams of vermilion blackness. Shallow breathing shattered the veil of silence. She took soft breaths, waiting, listening to her erratic heartbeat._

 _Violet eyes opened when she realized that she wasn't alone. Streaks of glowing crimson marred her vision. A hand reached down and-_

 _..._

 _He patted her head._

 _"Good girl. Not a single tear. You're growing stronger."_

 _It felt filthy. She felt the urge to tear his hand away from her, but fought it down. Trigon wanted her to show what he considered strength, yes, but not to actively fight against him. That surely would have earned her another round of punishment. He wanted her to be his good little girl and taking his punishment without a word. According to him, that was the way she would grow up to be a strong, successful woman._

 _... or maybe it was his way of dealing with his psychopathic tendencies. Who knew, really?_

 _She crawled up the stairs, legs like jelly beneath her. The endless staircase rose above her, innumerable steps rising into boundless darkness. There was no escape. She looked back. His gaze egged her on._

 _"Go."_

 _She put an arm out. Her hand trembled as she found the trailing and dragged her body up. Her arms burned._

 _"Ah-" she forced back a moan._

 _The strength in her legs slowly returned. Using her hands and knees, she rose up and up through the darkness, until her palm met the smooth surface of a wooden plane. She put her hand on the doorknob and turned it._

 _Fresh air breathed life into her burning lungs. She collapsed onto the floor. Soft arms wrapped around her quickly._

 _"Rachel, Rachel my dear... Rachel..."_

The dark haired girl opened her eyes. She was standing in front of the mirror in her room, the reflection of her eyes pitch black like the raven tone of ebony petals. Memory faded. She put a hand to the back of her head, combing through her hair and pressing gently against the sensitive spot where she had not healed properly. In faint moonlight, she stood still and utterly alone. Faint gasps hummed in her throat, but she choked them back out of habit more than anything else.

 _Months passed in thick darkness. Daytime was steeped with restless trepidation, when, come nightfall, she never knew what laid wait for her come nightfall. Sometimes nothing. Sometimes..._

 _She stopped at the top of the stairs, staring down into the gaping hole in front of her. Up in the pale moonlight, the night was warm and tranquil. She breathed in the calmness, hoping, hoping that tonight was not one of those nights, that at least this time, she wouldn't be swallowed whole by the jaws of perturbed darkness..._

 _She felt her head grow light. Faint dizziness distorted her vision. Her breath caught in her throat, lips parched and dry. A deep rumble from below beckoned for her to come. That was it. Her feet moved against her will. She took one step down... and froze._

 _..._

 _Move._

 _..._

 _The word echoed in her mind. She took another step, trying desperately to fight it. It would have been so easy, so very easy to just step outside and call the police, a domestic violence center, anyone... anyone at all. It would have been so easy to seek help. It would have been so easy to run away..._

 _..._

 _Come._

 _..._

 _Her feet wouldn't move. Her head told her to turn and leave, but her body would not obey._

 _..._

 _Don't make me wait longer._

 _..._

 _She took another step down. Her hand reached back and closed the door behind her. Utter blackness pervaded her senses. Her feet touched the floor. Cold sensation ran up her spine. She waited at the foot of the stairs, listening carefully. There was another sound that usually wasn't there. It sounded like someone... sniffling?_

 _A lamp flicked on in the far corner of the basement. The faint illumination lit the body of a girl about her age, strapped to some sort of large, medieval-looking machine, held up only by bindings around her arms and legs. Rachel drew closer, forcing herself to stay calm. The girl looked up a little. Her red-rimmed, half lidded eyes made it obvious that she was drugged._

 _The man standing beside the infernal contraption slapped the girl's face._

 _"Show some respect. Greet my daughter."_

 _"H-h-hi..." the words had a hard time coming out. "My name's... Tara."_

 _"Tch. Is that any way to greet your betters? Uncouth peasant."_

 _Rachel took a deep breath. Yes, he had done many things to her already. Yes, her body had suffered constant punishment, never mind all the wicked things he had said to her. But something about seeing someone else in the same predicament just... it felt wrong._

 _"You can't do this," Rachel murmured._

 _Trigon barely acknowledge that statement. He tightened Tara's bindings, then cranked a wheel on the contraption. The wooden arms of the device began stretching her limbs. There was a gasp of pain._

 _"You can't..."_

 _Trigon turned. "I have started. You continue."_

 _Violet eyes met dreary, half-conscious blue ones. Pity surged in Rachel's heart. Nobody else should have had to suffer like this._

 _"No."_

 _Suddenly, the demon was above her, eyes glowing malevolently crimson. A few more lamps turned on, revealing more torture devices around himself. "Then perhaps you'd like to take her place, daughter."_

 _..._

 _"I..."_

 _..._

 _"No? Then do what I tell you."_

 _Trigon gestured to the wheel again. She stepped forward and put a hand on it. Tara was moaning a little. Even with just that amount of stretching, it must've burned terribly, especially with whatever drug cocktail he had given her._

 _Rachel gripped the wheel. It was either Tara or her. She didn't even know the girl. It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't..._

 _Blue eyes met violet ones again._

 _She just couldn't do it._

 _..._

 _"No."_

 _T_ _he defiant word left her lips. Rachel undid the bindings swiftly and watched as Tara collapsed to the ground. Trigon's stern, unforgiving stare burned into Rachel's back. The dark haired girl's pulse quickened as her eyes studied the sleek, wooden machine in front of her. The creaking of Tara's bones rang in her ears and she unconsciously rubbed her shoulders, echoes of the other girl's pain running through her body. She opened her mouth, then gritted her teeth._

 _Why should she have to suffer? Wouldn't it be easier to just let someone else take the pain? Wouldn't it be easier, especially since this Tara was basically nobody to her? Yet... it just wasn't right._

 _... besides, Trigon couldn't really hurt her that badly. That would have raised too much suspicion when she went to school, or appeared in public. He couldn't maim her, at least..._

 _"Let her go."_

 _Trigon kicked Tara aside and seized his daughter's neck. Rachel's too calm, too defiant expression met his simmering glower._

 _"Weak," the demon spat. "Weak and merciful."_

 _"I'm nothing like you," she spit back. "You sadistic, sick bastard. I'll never be able to do that to someone else."_

 _"Even if I let her go, she won't remember a thing. I will make it so that there is no evidence for anyone to link her back to me. You will get nothing out of this."_

 _"I don't care. You can't do anything to me that you haven't already."_

 _Simmering rage blazed into a boil for just a second, but quickly cooled to eerie calm. Trigon let her go, then kicked the girl on the ground again. He walked over to a nearby cabinet, drew out a syringe, and stuck it in Tara's arm. Blue eyes closed and her breathing slowed almost to a halt._

 _The lamps shut off. Deep chuckling rang through the darkness._

 _"Rachel, Rachel... you are too smart for your own good. We both, it will be suspicious if you have too many visible bruises. Or if you do not show up to school for several days. Yes... of course you figured that out. But don't think that means I will simply let you go. Bad girls like you must be punished. I am your father. You will respect me. You will listen to me. No matter what it takes, I will instill that in you. Do you understand me?"_

 _"I don't want to be like you."_

 _"Like it or not, I am right. And you will listen." Trigon sighed. "Don't be weak like your mother. Listen to me, Rachel. I have your best interest at heart. I want you to grow up into a strong, successful person, like me. I don't want you to turn out like your mother, who merely sits in bed all day and does nothing. So heed my words. I will give you one more chance. Put that girl back on that rack and do what I told you to do."_

 _"No."_

 _..._

 _"Fine." Trigon growled._

 _One of the lamps turned on. Rough hands shoved her toward a plain table with a few restraints on it. At the unafraid look on her face, Trigon chuckled again._

 _"Don't know what I'm going to do? Don't worry, daughter. I'll tell you. This is called waterboarding."_

Rachel gasped. Fresh air filled her lungs. She took a few, shuddering breaths and shut off the water. She rested her elbows on the sink in front of her, staring into the mirror. The dark circles under her eyes had grown larger with lack of sleep. Her pale complexion was whiter than ever, almost ghostlike. Her hair fell over her face in a black frond. She shook her head, splashed her face again, then wiped it off, riding herself of the memories.

Briefly, shrouded amethyst flashed crimson. The dark haired girl squeezed her eyes shut.

"He wanted to turn me into a fucking psychopath like him," she muttered under her breath. "As if that was ever going to work. I really need to get over this."

She stepped out of the bathroom and flicked off the light. In her bedroom, the warm glow of her night lamp offered a point of comfort amidst the vast, cold darkness. She slipped beneath her blankets and closed her eyes.

 _"She is a fine girl, Trigon."_

 _Cold, metal fingers tilted her chin up. Rachel went still. The aura of this new person was much, much colder than she was used to. Whereas Trigon was usually a fiery spark, ready to flare into a blazing inferno at any moment, this man was all black, insidious ice, a seething mass of zero emotion whatsoever. Her breath caught in her throat._

 _"You say that now. Wait until she starts fighting against you. Then you'll know what kind of brat she is."_

 _"Teenagers will be like that. I am surprised you have not been able to put her in her place, however."_

 _Metal fingers squeezed her cheeks. Rachel felt the blood drain from her face as her vision came into focus. Above her, the cold plane of an orange and black mask hid the second man from view._

 _Trigon grunted. "She is too used to my methods. A change of scenery is sometimes necessary. And you are more adept at this sort of thing."_

 _"Yes, that is what you pay me for."_

 _"Indeed, it is. You know my conditions. I am giving you free reign to do what you must, but I do not believe my daughter is incorrigible. I trust you will do a good job of setting her back on the right path."_

 _"Of course."_

 _Shuffling footsteps shifted toward the stairs. "Good. Once you're done, how about a drink?"_

 _"Certainly. A good whiskey will do."_

 _"Very well. Take your time."_

 _Above them, a door opened and closed. He held her by the neck a few moments longer, studying the pale, frightened expression in her eyes.  
_

 _"Your father tells me you are a smart girl."_

 _..._

 _"Answer me when I talk to you."_

 _Despite the obvious terror in her eyes, a spark of spite welled up insider her. She shook her head._

 _A mock sigh sounded in her ear. "He also said you were very stubborn. I can see this as being true. I won't ask again. Answer me when I talk to you."_

 _She kept her lips shut, hatred overcoming her fear ever so slowly. Cold terror heated slowly into smouldering anger. For goodness sake. Now it wasn't even just her father, but this cold madman too? Her mouth twisted in disgust. There was a hard slap at her face; on reflex, she brought her knee up, forcing a grunt from the man above her._

 _His voice was a little bit edgy when he spoke again. "This could have been so easy, but I see in insist on doing things the hard way. Very well."_

 _Rachel gasped as she felt a knife carve a little cut into her shoulder blade. It was very shallow, enough to hurt just a little, but mostly meant as a threat. The masked man stood, a cool face of frigid irritation. Abruptly, he leaned back down, smothering her with one arm as he drew the knife down her body. It cut through her clothes and very shallowly into her skin._

 _Rachel's eyes went wide as she realized his intention._

 _"W-wait-"_

 _"Your father was very nice to you, little girl. It's too bad you were too stubborn to realize his kindness. You'll find nothing of his patience from me."_

 _Before she could say another word, the hand over her mouth was back. Pain tore through her like lightning. Her muscles screamed at her to force him away, but he was much bigger and stronger. She did everything she could, thrashing around and hitting whenever she found an opening, but he was encased almost entirely in metal. Faintly, she wondered if there was even a man behind that mask, but that thought was quickly diminished when another surge of pain ran through her body. It was a man, no doubt, except one that lacked a soul._

Rachel's brow furrowed. A bead of sweat ran down her cheek. She turned over and unconsciously pulled the blankets over her head. The wind howled outside in sharp gusts, then died down. At her side, the color of her lamp cooled to a deep shade of indigo.

 _Night faded. Briefly, the quiet dawn broke the darkness's vigil._

 _Somehow, in some inexplicable way, she had still managed to find the strength to reach the top of the stairs that morning. Somehow, she had managed to clean herself up, even if just a little, before crawling over to her mother's room. The door was open._

 _Exhausted, she shuffled into her mother's bed, seeking some measure of warmth and comfort. Arella turned over, opening a tired eye._

 _"Rachel? Sweetie, what's wrong?"_

 _The question was obviously rhetorical._

 _"Can I... stay home from school today?"_

 _"I'll tell them you're sick."_

 _Rachel buried her face into Arella's side. The older woman winced a bit, but let her daughter be. There was no need for Rachel to see her bruises as well. She sighed and drew the blankets over both of them._

 _"Sometimes, I think it would be better if we left."_

 _"We can't." Rachel's muffled voice came from under the blankets._ _"Father... Trigon knows many bad people. They would catch us even if we tried to run."_

 _Arella pursed her lips. "Not if we put him in jail first. I know it would be hard, but I can try to find a job to at least support you a little. If we're lucky, we could even sue him and try to get some money to help us survive. He has a lot of money from the drug market, but we would have a strong case."_

 _"It doesn't matter. He'll know it was us. It can't be anyone else. He'll send people after us."_

 _"The police can place us under protection."_

 _"The police can't stop the masked man."_

 _Arella went cold. She looked at Rachel sharply. "What did you just say?"_

 _Rachel blinked a few times. "The masked man?"_

 _..._

 _"Mother... are you crying?"_

 _Arella wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm afraid you're right. I... I don't know what to do anymore. I'm so sorry, Rachel. Just... if Trigon got him involved, there really is nothing I can do for you. I... forgive me. I'm a terrible mother. I can't protect you from anything."_

 _"Don't say that," Rachel whispered. "It's not your fault. Please don't cry, mother..."_

 _Abruptly, the older woman stirred. One of the windows in her room was open, but it hadn't been that way when Rachel had come in. A piece of paper floated through and landed directly on her sheet. Hand trembling, she unfolded it and read the note written for her inside._

 _'Don't try anything funny. Let things stay the way they are, and Rachel not have to suffer much. Do anything at all, and your lives will be a living hell. You know I have my ways. S.'_

 _"... Arella?"_

 _"It's nothing, dear. Sleep. Sleep, Rachel, sleep..."_

Violet eyes flew open. There was a bit of noise in her room. She listened closely. It almost sounded like a whisper, except what she was hearing wasn't words. The sound was lower and toneless, almost like the sound of _that_ man's voice -

Rachel sat up. She flicked on the light.

Nothing was there.

She sat back, cold sweat running down her face.

...

The whispering came back. The dark haired girl got up and walked toward the origin of the sound. She frowned.

One of her windows hadn't been completely closed. The wind was making strange noises through the little sliver - it was that, and nothing more. She turned back. It was quiet again. She was alone. Completely and utterly alone. Black petals rained from the sky.

 _"I am giving you a choice. You will kill one or the other. If you do not choose, then I will kill both. And you will have a punishment."_

 _Ruthlessly cold, that was how the masked man's voice echoed in her mind. Rachel held the knife in her hand. She looked at the two people beneath her, both bound and gagged, even if it was unnecessary with how heavily drugged they were._

 _It was funny really. Over the years, she had finally begun to realize what, exactly, her father was. On the surface, he was the CEO of a large pharmaceutical company and a very successful man who, perhaps, worked a little bit too hard. What a lie. It was true that he oversaw the distribution of drugs, but truthfully, he dealt with very different types of drugs than those sold by his company..._

 _"Hurry it up."_

 _The masked man was getting impatient. Rachel chewed on her lip. Trigon might've been the drug lord, but whoever this masked man was, he was almost scarier than her father. No doubt he was a mercenary hired to keep everything in order, but somehow, it felt like he was more than just a mere strongman._

 _"Can you tell me who they are again?"_

 _"Jennifer Pechman. Baran Flinders. They owe your father some money. That's all you need to know."_

 _Rachel pursed her lips. Funny how these people usually had to pay large sums of money to get their hands on drugs, but once they were in debt, her father was so willing to pump them full of narcotics just to make a point. It wasn't fair, really. Even if these people were druggies and somewhat seedy-looking, and probably not the most caring people in the world, it just... somehow, it didn't feel right. Still, it was either them or her. If she had to choose between being tortured for another night, or having blood on her hands... Rachel gripped the knife more tightly._

 _"Girl, I will give you thirty seconds to make a decision. Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight..."_

 _The dark haired girl put her finger on the flat of the blade. She tried to visualize them as monsters, as inhuman beings beneath the heel of her foot. They were nothing. They were the scum of society. She didn't need to suffer for them. Rachel's knuckles whitened. She took a deep breath._

 _It just wasn't right. She couldn't do it. It simply... it was just wrong. They had done nothing to her._

 _That only left one other option._

 _She closed her eyes, trying to visualize her surroundings in the dim light. He had to have been standing only a couple paces behind her. It was close... close enough so that she could make it. All she had to do was hide the movement long enough to catch him unprepared._

 _She took a deep breath. Rachel grasped the knife firmly, then spun around and thrust it forward._

 _"Nice try. Don't be so obvious about it next time."_

 _He gripped her wrist and kicked her in the stomach. Rachel dropped noiselessly. She stared at him hatefully from the ground. The nonchalant way he regarded her fueled her anger._

 _"What?"_

 _"You're sick," she hissed. "You want me to gut these people just as a demonstration."_

 _"Yes. And?"_

 _"You want to turn me into a sick fuck like you."_

 _"Yes. And?"_

 _"I'm surprised Trigon had the guts to hire a dirty bastard like you. That's low, even for my father."_

 _"Perhaps. And?"_

 _Rachel seethed on the ground, but kept her mouth shut when he planted a boot on her chest._

 _"Nothing else to say? Good. Here."_

 _He withdrew his foot and placed the knife back in her hand. Rachel slowly drew up to a sitting position, holding the knife carefully in her bruised wrist._

 _"Now, if you truly hate me that much, then try it again. Stab me."_

 _Her eyes narrowed. "If you think I'm that stupid-"_

 _"I won't try to stop you."_

 _She eyed the knife in her hands carefully. Hatred bubbled up. This was the man who, along with her father, had made her life a living hell. Behind the mask lay a demon of a different sort, who had violated the sanctity of her mind and body, merciless in the thick darkness of every night. Here was a man whose utter disregard for life surpassed even that of her father's. Whereas Trigon was the raging devil from inferno, here was a cold, ruthless killer whose deep set apathy cut deeply like the mark of death._

 _Rachel's palm bled a little with how hard she gripped the handle. Here was a man who had personally taken many lives. Her father might have been the one who oversaw the order of his oppressive empire, but this was the person who executed his orders, who dealt the unfortunate victims personally. The masked man saw the plight of the poor, the addicted, the abused, the oppressed, pitiable people whose lives he had ruined... he witnessed it all with his own two eyes, but simply did not care. Here was a sociopath of - she thought - the worst kind._

 _Her eyes flashed crimson. She stepped forward, glaring hatefully into the mask. She raised the knife, pointed it at his chest, and..._

 _..._

 _She couldn't do it._

 _Rachel hissed and threw the knife down at his feet. The instant she did so, he grabbed her arm and bent it behind her. The masked man forced her to the ground and sat on top of her._

 _"I knew you were too weak. Your father will be so disappointed."_

 _"Like you give a rat's ass about what he thinks."_

 _A low chuckle was her response. "Very astute. He does, however, pay me well, so I am inclined to do my job well."_

 _"So you're telling me this is just a sick joke to you," she seethed._

 _"Precisely."_

Rachel's eyes snapped open. She stumbled out of her room, down the stairs, into the kitchen. Moonlight cast pale shadow over her ethereal form. Snow drifted down from the sky, black petals cascading from the heavens. Memories boiled in her blood. Her eyes burned slightly sanguine. She clenched her hands into fists, the image of that man burned in her mind. Rachel spun around, cautious fear running down her spine for a moment, followed by smouldering rage.

 _The lights flickered as she descended the stairs._

 _The night was thicker than usual, blackness pressing in like walls of coffins enclosing upon her body. The stairs stretched downward in endless descent, fallen like steps to Hell. Her breath caught in her throat._

 _Tonight, more than ever, it felt like she did not belong in such a place._

 _Rachel looked back up. There was no light at all. Oblivion spread in a boundless void. She stretched a hand out to keep her position and tried to take a step upward. Her feet took her down instead._

 _She reached the bottom._ _Nobody was there._

 _..._

 _Abruptly, there was a pair of hands on her shoulders. Rachel jumped, but kept her mouth shut out of habit. The hands touching her were hot and very rough, forceful and decisive in their movements. She supposed it was Trigon was telling her where to go. He directed her toward one of the far corners, where they had a little cellar. There were a couple steps. She stumbled down, feet meeting the dirt floor, and the hands left her shoulders. They placed something in her hand and disappeared._

 _Rachel looked up and after a couple moments, the lights turned on. Across from her, between a few large barrels, the masked man was sitting, wrists and ankles chained tightly to the ground. She looked at her hands. She was holding a gun._

 _She heard Trigon's voice echo from across the room._

 _"It is your choice, Rachel."_

 _It was only five words, but the intention seemed obvious. How else could she explain this situation? Here was her tormentor, tied up and hapless before her. Even Trigon was giving her a chance. Even her monster of a father knew how much of a demon this man was. Anger swelled. She fought it down._

 _It was exactly what he wanted her to do. Right? If she could kill someone with her own hands, even once... even if it was such a horrible man, if she killed him, she would have proved that she was capable of being as much of a monster as them. She was capable of ending the life of another person._

 _But this was no person behind the mask. This was a demon through and through._

 _..._

 _Rachel raised the gun, hands trembling._

 _This was the mask that haunted her dreams and turned her nights into nightmarish hell. And she had the chance to end it right here._

 _She squeezed the trigger._

 _Her conscience told her to stop._

 _..._

 _"Well, what are you waiting for, girl?" This time, it was the cold, emotionless tone that she was used to hearing from behind the mask. "Do it."_

 _Do it._

 _Do it..._

 _..._

 _The words jeered and goaded her in her mind. His voice would not leave her alone. He kept telling her to do it. Her conscience refused. Her body would not obey. She pulled the trigger._

 _..._

 _The figure on the ground slumped._

 _..._

 _"Well done."_

 _Rachel gasped. Somehow, the masked man was still talking. Somehow-_

 _She rushed forward. With trembling hands, she lifted the mask away. She spun around furiously as a hand gripped her wrist. This time, it was the cold metal she was used to._

 _"You **monster.** "_

 _The masked man chuckled. "I was wondering if you hated me enough to do it. I wanted to be sure, so I used a dummy."_

 _ **"You used my mother."**_

 _"Same thing."_

 _Rachel struggled furiously in her grip, raw fury etched on her face. She trashed around and tried to hit him, but he held her down calmly. Eventually realizing that her efforts were futile, the dark haired girl stopped moving, her voice growing low and dark with raw rage._

 _"Even Trigon wouldn't accept this."_

 _"Trigon is on the other side of the door."_

 _The words pierced into her. A surge of agony tore through her body. Trigon was horrible, but to think that he had so easily accepted a plan that sacrificed his own wife..? The dark haired girl slumped. Suddenly, she felt cold all over. She stared at Arella's pale face on the ground, tears welling up in her eyes. She gripped the gun more tightly. Numbness spread through her flesh and bones, followed by cold, cold anger._

 _"You tricked me," she whispered._

 _"You hated me enough to do it."_

 _Rachel drew a few soft, shuddering breaths. She went still for several minutes._

 _Abruptly, she turned around in a jarring movement and pointed the gun at him. "I **hate** you enough to do it."_

 _..._

 _Cold silence rang through the room, followed by a deep chuckle. It was, however, noticeably less calm than it normally was._

 _"You wouldn't dare."_

 _"Wouldn't I?"_

 _"You wouldn't. You're going to listen to me like you always do. You're weak. You've never had the gall to defy anything I've told you to do, and that's not about to change. Put down the gun."_

 _"No."_

 _In the blink of an eye, she fired it again._

 _The masked man was fast. It only clipped his arm. He was on her in a moment, clutching her wrists and pinning her to the ground. He stared at her dismayed face, laughing maniacally._

 _"Good, good! Even a wretch like you has the guts to-"_

 _She kicked up, hard, scrambling away. The masked man cursed behind her as her father entered the room as well._

 _"Rachel, what on earth-"_

 _She paid him no attention. The dark haired girl rushed toward a nearby wall and grabbed one of the lamps standing from the ground. Holding it like a staff, she swung it hard when Trigon tried to grab her and was rewarded with a shout of pain. Furious roars met her ears, but there was no time to pay them any attention. As soon as the masked man had risen again, she swung the lamp at him, fending off the attack, then hurled it toward the hated mask. It missed and made contact with one of the barrels, instantly lighting the wood aflame._

 _A quick thought crossed her mind. The wood down here was supposed to be damp and wasn't easy to set on fire. But the alcohol might have been..._

 _Rachel gasped. In a matter of moments, smoke filled the entire room. Fire blazed everywhere, and the shouting grew louder. Coughing and sputtering, she ran toward the door. A hand grabbed at her ankle, holding her back. She turned in a panic as searing pain blistered along her skin. The metal hand grabbing her was already burnished black from the heat from the flame. One eye pierced into her soul from behind the black and orange mask. She kicked as hard as she could, watching as the mask disappeared behind a tide of flame. She looked away. Even with her ankle badly burned, she managed to get to her feet and closed the door behind her. That swiftly began burning as well._

 _Glowing light flickered through the darkness behind her, warning her to keep moving. Rachel rushed for the stairs but stumbled, tripping and hitting something hard. She held her head and struggled to fight back tears as she put one hand on the stairs. Behind her, the door burst open and Trigon's angry, pained roar reached her ears. She wasn't entirely sure what he was trying to say to her, but it couldn't have been anything good._

 _Rachel took deep breaths and focused on the steps in front of her. It was only a slight injury on her ankle. How many times had she made the trip up the stairs under worse conditions? It was only one more time. It was only-_

 _The blazing heat from fire warned her to keep moving. Half way up, she heard Trigon begin to follow. Her pace increased. One hand, one foot, one after the other, she scrambled upward as quickly as she could. Smoke filled her vision and lungs. She closed her eyes and did her best to continue. Her hand met the door._

 _She flung it open. In the distance, faint sirens broke the cackling flames behind her. She slammed the door shut, eyes readjusting to the paleness of fading moonlight radiating through the windows. Dizzy and disoriented, Rachel slumped to the ground, only to be stirred back to life by the sound of fumbling at the doorknob._

 _Somehow, the dark haired girl found the strength to get to her feet again. She limped toward the front door, and as she opened that, the sirens grew closer. The irregular sound of Trigon's shuffle behind her told her that he was badly injured as well. Still, she had no desire to find out whether or not she could fight him off in that state._

 _Cold air heated rapidly as the fire spread. She half ran, half hobbled across the grass as light began to engulf her. Even as she tried to go faster, Rachel tripped over something and fell face first toward the ground. She tried to get up, but her leg would not move. The light grew brighter. Was it the fire, or..?_

 _The sirens rose to a nearly unbearable volume. She closed her eyes, waiting for Trigon to reach her and put her out of her misery._

 _..._

 _"Miss? Miss, you're safe now."_

 _Warm hands helped her to a sitting position. Rachel took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to open her eyes a sliver. A police woman's comforting face met her gaze. She let out her breath in a trembling stream. The light grew brighter. As the flames subsided under the cascade of water from the fire trucks, black petals fell downward from the heavens, floating gently in glowing radiance._

 _Violet eyes rose toward the sky. Like the night shedding its crepuscular wings, the feathers of ebony flowers rained down, giving way to the warming glow of the sun._

 _At long last, on the horizon, dawn broke the everlasting night._

* * *

Garfield Logan walked down the block toward the now-familiar garden. Lost in thought, he put a hand on the fence gate and opened it, stepping inside. He closed it behind himself and shifted nervously. It was the first time he was coming over unannounced, so it wasn't exactly possible to predict how Rachel would react, but...

Wait a second.

The gate hadn't been locked. That was unusual. He frowned.

Garfield stepped toward the house. Something seemed slightly off. The few remaining violet flowers in her garden seemed darker than usual in hue, dulled and almost sickly looking. Even her carnation didn't have its usual brilliant color, or perhaps it was just the way the light was hitting it. Maybe it was just a feeling. Maybe...

Hmm.

He approached the house, but something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

 _No. No, hell no, Logan. She told you to never go there._

 _... yeah, but it's not like I'm gonna break anything. She's seemed a bit off lately. Even neglectin' her flowers a little. I could help her out a bit._

The blonde boy took a few steps toward the corner. The ivy was thick, suspended on railings above his head, casting deep shadows everywhere. There was a slim archway that blocked off a small area - not large enough for him to safely squeeze through, but someone of Rachel's size probably would have been able to. He settled for looking through it.

At first glance, there seemed to be nothing of note inside. There was only one, small plant at the center amidst the pale snow, but it didn't seem to be growing anything. She couldn't possibly have been so adamant about hiding such a thing.

No. That wasn't it.

A little distance away, he caught sight of something. It was a black rose, fallen from the crest of the flower without having bloomed. The wilted petals were jet black, still bundled up in guarded sheaths, small and ill-formed. It obviously had not grown well. So there were things even she couldn't do.

"Garfield? What are you doing?"

Rachel's cold voice sounded from behind him. Panic spread through his body in a flash. Garfield stood, words spilling from his mouth in a splutter.

"I, uh - you know - you kinda seemed off lately and I- I wanted to help, so- I was gonna stop by today- "

"Move."

Her voice was eerily cold. Glassy violet eyes studied the fallen flower, half buried in the gently falling snow. Rachel closed her eyes. She stood so still that it almost seemed like she was a statue. Something about her aura was darker than ever.

 _Calm down! Explain yourself. You didn't do it, Logan. It was like that. Not your fault. She's gotta be sad though. Don't be mean about it. Comfort her._

"Rachel, I swear that it was like that when I found it. Promise. I didn't touch it at all."

...

"I'm really sorry. You must've tried really hard to grow it, but guess a flower with that color's not gonna be easy."

...

"Rachel? Rachel, come on. Say something, at least."

She turned. Garfield took a step back, startled at the vermilion marring the shadowed, nearly black violaceous color of her eyes.

"Leave."

"Rachel, I'm really, really sorry. I know it must've meant a lot to you. I promise, swear on my soul that I didn't do it."

"It doesn't matter. Leave."

He took another step back. "Rachel-"

" _Go._ "

His heart told him to stay. His brain said no. _Mind over matter._

The gate shut quietly. A plain, dark haired girl stood there in the drifting snowfall, staring silently at the ground.

She knelt and picked up the flower, gently brushing off the snow. Pale, cold hands cradled the thin, ebony petals, as if willing it to come back to life. She held it haplessly, freezing in frigid wind billowing through her clothes.

Rachel pursed her lips.

"Ah... I'm so sorry... mother..."

She held the flower up. On wings of winter wind, black petals floated away into deepening snowfall. One by one, they fell apart, disappearing into the distance until her hands were left outstretched, utterly empty.

The soft chiming of bells tolled in the distance.


	10. White Rose

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans

Like I promised, it gets better this chapter. No more scary stuff.

* * *

Grey clouds spread over windswept skies. Snow drifted down in white streams over barren earth. In the lonely frost of morning, the forested roads were bereft of motion save for the floating petals of icy, alabaster flowers floating through the air. Time passed and the sun rose into the sky, then dipped as Apollo's chariot rode its course across the heavens. It hovered midway over the horizon, suspended and half obscured behind wintry clouds, glowing with ethereal light through the veil of constant, slow snowfall.

She meandered through the grey plane of earth, dreary eyes set on divergent paths through ancient forests. Through deep shadow and radiant light, the dark figure passed like the image of a raven fluttering across cypresses and pines, bare evergreens amidst snowy winter. She stopped there, breathlessly gazing toward the clouded heavens. Beneath the cover of her hood and the curtain of her black hair, violet eyes shimmered with the reflection of the masked sun.

Quiet footsteps marked her path forward once. Flowing wings of wind carried her through the depths of the snowy vale, marred only by the faintest speckle of ash amidst the pristine glow of winter. There was a soft breath, floating through the air in a muted cloud, then silent cold immediately following. Her steps continued.

Amidst deep shadow, luminous sunlight broke the patterned fringe of cedars and firs. Out in the open, violet eyes graced the sky through ceaseless snowfall. Grey skies wept frozen tears in pale cascades onto breathless earth. Light and dark danced together at the boundary of cinereal earth and stern cypresses. She stepped forward and stopped. Sunlight broke the endless darkness halfway across her body, cleaving her flesh in two. Her breaths came swifter, held in frigid wind as white puffs before her eyes. Her brain urged her to move, but her heart refused.

She dared not look back. Behind, the labyrinthian darkness loomed over her body, silently threatening, quietly waiting. Her heart said yes. Her brain refused.

The light beckoned. She took a step forward. The breaths came faster. Incandescent illumination carved searing pain into her flesh. She stepped forward anyway. As if tearing herself from the darkness, she emerged from the trees in a cloak of pitch black, willing herself to move forward. Radiant sunlight greeter her for a moment, before turning to grey once more.

Darkness and light mixed in monochrome chaos, like ash raining from the heavens. Violet eyes bore two points of color amidst pallid light.

Grey stones grew from glacial earth. The snow slowed nearly to a halt, suspended in ivory oblivion among the shrines for the dead. Past the fringe of the trees near the center, through the jaded sunlight, and into barest shadow once more, she wandered through the headstones, eyes cast in glassy stupor. At last, she stopped at the far side, under the leafless branches of a cherry blossom.

Bells tolled in the distance. Effulgent ringing held time still in a surge of undying harmony through the deepening winter. They came to life, a chorus of metallic voices singing in brilliant tones, drawing breath in the still, still air.

Violet eyes closed. She hung her head, waiting and listening. A pair of flowers slipped out from her hand and rested at the foot of the gravestone.

* * *

Time passed.

Dimly, awareness returned and she slowly realized that there was someone standing next to her. He stood a reasonable distance away, close enough to reach out and touch, but not close enough to be intrusive.

...

Rachel chewed on her lip and clenched her hands into fists. Her eyes rose. The deep color of her irises brightened from nearly pitch black to a deep mauve.

"Hey, Rae."

She opened her mouth perfunctorily, but no sound came out. Something about her expression must've been different because Garfield held his hands out in a placating gesture.

"You don't have to talk if you don't want to. And if you want me to stop, just stop me. Alright?"

Her silence was imperturbable, but the inflection in her eyes and lips told him to continue.

"I thought about it a bit, and I guess it's kinda obvious now, but somehow I didn't realize it before. This is your mom's grave, right? Same last name as you. Roth. And you were growing that flower for her."

She didn't meet his stare, but beneath her lashes, the color of her eyes darkened back to almost black. Her posture was different from normal. Crimson bled through her violet aura.

"Hey." Garfield fought the urge to move closer, wanting to avoid scaring her off. "I know something bad happened. I know it must've sucked, but c'mon Rae, you don't need to suffer like this for it. Nobody wants to see you in pain like this. 'specially your mom."

Her lips trembled.

The blonde boy sighed. Words weren't getting through to her, but then again, they had never been his strong point. Frustration welled up. He _had_ to be able to help her, somehow. There had to be something he could do, but clearly he wasn't approaching it the right way.

"Rae?"

She stood there, the pale contour of her face a mask barely restraining deep undercurrents of sensation threaded through her body, long buried beneath the icy barriers of her psyche, but withheld no more.

The expression on his face was all sympathy. Whatever had happened, nobody should have had to endure what she had gone through. That much seemed clear.

It became a physical effort. She was trembling with the effort of keeping it in, and for the first time, Garfield caught sight of the stress lines around her eyes and lips, pale skin marred by deep shadow and the hint of crimson color in her eyes.

It was too much. He couldn't just simply stand by and watch her suffer like that by herself.

A swift step bridged the gap between them. She didn't protest, but didn't look at him either. He reached out, but decided that touching her would be a little awkward, given her usual reaction to that. With only that little distance separating them, the tension in her body was clear. Garfield stood back again. He looked at the name on the grave.

 _Arella Roth._

The flowers at the foot of the headstone were a little small and wilted. It must've been all she could manage to bring without clipping her carnation - not that that would have been appropriate anyway. It was only two, tiny flowers, faded hearts cast down alone at amidst the pallor of dead earth. It didn't seem right.

Garfield reached into his jacket. In the grey light of jaded skies, white petals emerged, a little crumpled, but otherwise blooming brightly in the drab air.

"Hey. Rae, you should be the one to put this there."

She finally looked up. Her face was a mask of confusion.

"Gar- field?"

"Ah. Sorry, there was only one left. It's all I could get ya. They don't grow well for some reason, like you saw. Here."

He placed the white rose into her hand. Violet eyes ran over it as she touched her fingers to the petals. They were soft and pliable, still fresh - this wasn't just one of the left over flowers he had, but was something he had clipped specifically for her.

Rachel knelt and placed the flower by the two violet ones, then stood again. Her face disappeared under the shadowy curtain of her hair. Garfield stood as well, studying her curiously.

 _Drip. Drip._

"It's raining."

He looked at her quizzically. "Isn't it snowing?"

"It's raining," she insisted stubbornly.

...

At that moment, he realized that those were tears streaming down her face. She tried and tried, but simply _could not_ hold it back any longer. She squeezed her eyes shut, crystal liquid trailing down her cheeks and dripping from her chin.

Garfield held his arms out.

Rachel rushed forward and threw her arms around him in a fierce hug. The blonde boy put an arm on her head and held her against him. She was quiet and still in the embrace, but the wet spot on his shirt grew steadily as the minutes passed through frozen tears raining from the sky. Silence held quiet vigil, where the white petals of icy flowers rained like floating crystals. Moments passed by, seconds falling into eternity amidst the cascading snow.

...

The strength left her body rapidly. Rachel slumped to the ground and Garfield followed, waiting patiently as she wiped her eyes. Half hidden beneath the plane of her hands, the trembling curves of her lips and brows told him just how hard she was still trying to fight it.

It was like everything else, really. She tried and tried, but always failed. Failure spilled from her eyes ceaselessly, shamefully... but uncontrollably.

...

Time passed on flowing wings of wind. Through dreary light, each second passed as a floating flake of crystalline ice. She bent her head down, dark hair masking her face in shadowed darkness. Agonized silence radiated from her. It was almost terrifying, watching her struggle like that. What kind of willpower must she have had to keep it to herself and still hold it in, even in a situation like this?

It couldn't have been good for her, could it?

Still, when she looked up, her face was smooth again. Memory faded back to confines of her mind.

"I'm sorry."

Now, more than ever, her voice was a quiet lull that was not exactly a monotone, but a slightly ragged mask of restraint. The barriers were back; they threatened to break free again, but she held them down with as much strength as she could muster. The strained lines on her face deepened. There was _so much pain_ in her eyes. Even if he tried to let her have her space... enough was enough.

"You can't do this to yourself." Garfield blurted out.

"Gar..."

"You need help. Professional help. Like, I think the university has-"

Red rimmed eyes looked up, exasperated. "Gar, I've tried that before. It's not the same thing as having friends of people your same age."

"You can't keep holding it in."

Rachel sat quietly, rubbing her eyes gently. She pressed her legs into a more comfortable position, then looked up again, a little calmer than before.

"I'm not."

"You have to talk. Please. I don't wanna see you go crazy."

Pale lips pursed into a downward curve.

"You can trust me."

The dark haired girl nodded. "I think I can trust you."

"I can keep a secret. You know I wouldn't-"

"I know. I know, Gar. Just... just give me a moment."

Rachel swept her hair out of her face. Her eyes were back to their usual color, if a little duskier and shadowed by exhaustion. Deep within, vermilion color marred the veiled amethyst, but it was only fleeting, gone by the time she was done rubbing away the tear tracks on her cheeks.

"I don't know." She shook her head. "How do I put this? Maybe... I think you probably know about me already."

"Of course I know you."

"No, not that. I mean you know about me. What happened to me, maybe even why I turned out like this."

"I do?"

"Probably. I think you would know. My father was the head of a big pharmaceutical company. And a drug lord. Ring a bell?"

"Hmmm..."

"I may have also changed my surname. Roth is my mother's maiden name, but I was born under the name Skaath."

Green eyes widened. Of course he knew about that. Trigon Skaath's arrest had been one of the most publicized events a couple years ago, not because he was the boss of a large corporation, but because he had been documented as one of the _worst_ child abusers ever to live in Jump City, and possibly even in the whole country. The evidence, of course, was publicly available, but honestly had been too sick for him to want to read it before. Somehow, it was a travesty that _that_ man had not gotten the death sentence, but then again, for the years of torture he had put her through, death would have been too lenient a punishment.

"Gar? Gar, you don't need to pity me. Don't cry."

Was that true? He reached up and found that, indeed, his eyes were wet. "I... didn't know," he croaked out.

"I didn't mean for you to. You couldn't have known."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't, but just thinking about what happened to you, I don't... I can't help it."

Green eyes fixated on her pale, slim form. Here was a girl who had lived for ten years in living hell. She was a person who had truly had her nightmares come to life, whose terrors of the night were reality, who was completely and utterly alone in her struggle to stay alive, let alone sane. It almost sounded fake the first time he had heard about it; it was a story that was too extreme to be true, something so twisted and horrible that it had to have been a work of fiction. Who could have endured something like that? Who could have had the strength to survive through that and continue on without any support at all?

Yet, there she was, right in front of him. No. She had been there all this time, and he simply hadn't known. He hadn't bothered to figure it out.

"I'm so sorry."

Instinctively, she knew he was referring to something else. To think that even after all that, she still had such a degree of empathy...

"I didn't want you to find out," she murmured. "You weren't supposed to know. It's not your fault."

"Still. I should have tried."

"I would have just been rude to you. I'm sorry. I'm such a terrible-"

"Don't say that," Garfield snapped. "You're not. I understand where you're coming from. I know what it's like to be secretive. I know why. Okay? So please, don't feel like you did anything wrong. It's them. Trigon, and whoever that masked man was. They did it. It's not your fault."

"It's my fault for being an ass to you."

"You're not," Garfield insisted. "Nobody could go through that and just forget about it. Honestly, I'm still a bit shocked that you were strong enough to deal with it for such a long time all by yourself. And I'm... really sorry that you had to do it alone, too. I'm so sorry, Rachel. I'm so, so sorry..."

His voice began to crack at the end.

"Don't be." Rachel was shaking. "It's in the past. I... Please don't pity me. Please stop."

The facade of calm she had put up began to corrode again. She blinked rapidly, trying very hard to hold it back. The desperate look she gave him told him one thing. _I want to forget about everything that happened._

He totally wasn't helping her do that.

"Sorry," Garfield took a deep breath and willed himself to stop. "Sorry."

What could he say? If she didn't want to talk about it... but she _had_ to. Clearly, she couldn't handle holding it in forever, but maybe this wasn't the time, nor the place. Maybe it would be right to be patient a bit longer. After all, what good was dwelling on the past if it only made her miserable?

"Hey. Uhm, it's kind of cold, and I think you've been out here for a while. Hours maybe? You don't need to answer that. Anyway, you could probably use something hot to drink and some food, so why don't we head back to my place and-"

"Where all your friends are?"

"Right, privacy. Then you won't mind if I come to your place and stay with you for a bit? Rae?"

She wasn't going to tell him to leave her alone again, right? There was absolutely no way he could do that again.

Rachel looked down. " _Please_."

* * *

Warm steam clouded her reflection in the mirror as she stepped out of the shower. Rachel dried her hair quickly, dressed briefly in a set of silken pajamas, then shuffled over to her bedroom. The scent of lavender tea greeted her with refreshing fragrance. She refused everything but a bit of jam and toast, opting to sit in a pile of blankets as Garfield stood by her bed.

"You can sit by me."

"I'm a little dirty though."

"You showered before you came out to see me. Your hair was wet."

Leave it to Rachel to be observant like that. He sat by her and waited as she finished her food. She set the plate down on her nightstand, then turned toward him, chewing on her lip.

"What is it? You can tell me-"

"No. I would... if you do not mind..."

"I don't."

The dark haired girl closed her eyes and turned her back to him. "Forgive my immodesty, but I would like to show you. Is that okay?"

"If you're comfortable doing it, it's fine with me."

She wordlessly slipped her top off. Pale skin emerged as she covered her front with a blanket. From a distance, her skin was smooth and flawless, glowing with the luster of gleaming ivory, but as he drew closer, the numerous scars covering her back became apparent. Most of them were small, blending in easily with the tone of her skin, but then again, that would explain why it was very easy for her to hide them... and it would explain why Trigon hadn't been caught earlier as well. Even if he had known it was coming, there was still something deeply unsettling seeing the remnants of her memories carved into her body.

"May I touch?"

"Well..."

"It's fine. Don't feel pressured. I was just asking."

"No." Rachel took a deep breath. "If I can't trust you, then who else will I be able to?"

Garfield looked down. There was a burn mark on her lower back; he touched it carefully with his finger, running lightly over some of her other scars as well. As he looked up, something didn't seem right, and he parted her hair a bit. A sharp intake of breath warned him to be careful.

On the back of her head, there was a spot where the bones weren't aligned properly, as if someone had hit her with something hard, but hadn't bothered to set the bones back in place when they were healing. Come to think of it, that was probably what had happened.

The blonde boy clenched his hands into fists, shaking with anger. He closed his eyes and pounded a fist into the bed.

"I'm gonna pay that monster a visit."

"And what good will come of that?"

"I'll give him firsthand experience in what it's like to get beaten to a pulp-"

"You'd just be thrown in jail for doing that."

"Believe me, even if he's got rights, the police wouldn't give a crap if trash like that-"

"Garfield. That's not right and you know it."

"He deserves it."

"He might..." she sighed. "But that won't help anything. I would rather you not. The past is the past. He's gone. Both mentally and physically."

 _He's gone. Both of them._

"I can't just sit here and do nothing."

"You haven't done nothing. Garfield, helping others isn't about getting revenge for them. It's about _helping_ them."

"I..."

"There's no point," she repeated. "If anything, it would be my fight, not yours. But please, I don't want to dig up anything like that ever again. I feel... it would be better to just let it be. Okay?"

"If that's really what you want..."

Garfield clenched his hands several times, working out the simmering rage. Wasn't she right? It was _her_ life, and that man was _her_ father. If she didn't want to deal with it ever again, then maybe it wasn't his place to force it. Maybe... maybe, for once, it would have been right to listen to her because it really was about helping Rachel, and not about satisfying his own sense of justice.

"I can respect your wishes."

She turned toward him. He averted his gaze. She raised an eyebrow quizzically.

"Something wrong?"

"No, uh, well, you weren't wearing a shirt, so..."

"I am now." Rachel put a finger to her lips. "That's... sweet of you."

"What is?"

"Both things. You caring enough to listen to me. And respecting my privacy."

"I know what it's like to be in your situation. Hell, I don't really - I think you had it way worse - but I mean c'mon... I'm not heartless. I, I just don't know, Rae. I can't believe you had to go through that. It makes me so sad for you. And angry." His hands curled into fists again. "You have no idea how bad I wanna go mess that guy up right now. But, if you really want me to just let it be... I think I can do it too. I respect you, you know. This is for you. So I'm going to respect what you asked of me."

Cold fingers touched his cheek. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Green eyes lifted, surprised. "How so?"

"When we first met, I wouldn't have picked you out for being the way you are. I thought you were just like everyone else. Like... the people who make friends easily and know how to live a good life, but run away at the first sign of trouble. I didn't think you could understand anything about me."

"You're not trouble."

"I am to most people. We both know that I am very difficult to deal with."

"It's worth it."

Her lips curved up. "Thank you. Truthfully... I made a quick judgement about you before, and even when you started proving me wrong, I didn't want to let you get close."

"It's not your fault. I get why you'd be afraid. Yeah, I know. Me trying to understand people is kinda surprising, but just by lookin' at me, you wouldn't know what I've been through. Same for you."

"It's not just that," Rachel murmured. "For example, many guys your age wouldn't have passed up the chance to ogle a girl, but you looked away almost immediately. Granted, I'm not particularly good to look at, but-"

"You're plenty attractive."

"We don't need to warp the truth here." The dark haired girl pursed her lips.

"I mean it. You know, the other day- actually..."

"Actually what?"

"This isn't the right time. We can talk about it later."

Violet eyes fixated on a spot below his face, somewhere along his chest. "You're talking about that, aren't you? You like me, don't you? That's why you're saying all these things."

"No! I mean-"

"... I see."

"Rachel." He touched her shoulders gently. The words came out with a bit of effort, but they came out nonetheless. "What I'm trying to say is, yes, I like you, but we're good friends, right? It'd be weird to not like your friends. And I really, really want to try to help you. So I'm going to do everything in my power, if it's going to make you feel better. That's what close friends do. And that's what we are."

She looked up. Her eyes pierced into him. She knew that he wasn't being totally truthful, and there was no way he could hide it.

"Alright, fine. I'll be real with you. I think... how do I put this? Uh, you know I've dated a lot of people, but none of my relationships have lasted very long. It's not like I hated them or anything, but they just lacked _something_. For me, just a pretty face and being nice isn't good enough. I want someone who can understand me, and someone who I can hopefully understand too. But not everyone has the same experiences as me, you know. Being abused, having nobody care about you, being alone..."

Rachel tilted her head.

"I'm not very good at explaining these things. What I'm trying to say is, I think we clicked in a way that I never had happen to me before. Sure, we had some rocky moments, but getting close to someone means knowing how to work past them, right? And that's never happened before. That's why... you know."

"I see."

"But I don't want to force it on you either. Like, what's the difference between being good friends and being a couple, anyway? Minus, well, you know, the physical aspects- but I don't really want that from you," he blurted out.

"... right."

"Agh! What I mean is, knowing what happened to you, I don't-"

"I understood your intention. You don't want me to feel pressured. So there would not be much of a difference between being friends and being together."

"Yeah."

Rachel tilted her head back. "Even so, I don't know about this. We _have_ known each other for a while, and I do believe that you are the first person besides my mother whom I could trust. No. I think you are the first person who I can trust on this level. Even so..."

Her eyes turned back toward him. Garfield seemed... slightly disappointed? Of course he would be. He had given her so much of his time - his _life_ \- and she met him with was apathy? And come to think of it, they _had_ clicked pretty well, so why? Rachel sighed. As always, she was the problem. Every single time.

Her feelings must have showed in her expression because he tilted her chin back up. "Hey. Don't feel bad."

"I'm sorry," she began wiping her eyes again. "I can never seem to give anyone what they want."

"Rae. It's fine. I don't even want anything from you. Wait, no. I want you to be happy. Just worry about yourself for once, okay? This isn't about what I want."

"It still matters."

"It doesn't."

"You've taken so much time from your life to help me, and I can't repay you-"

"Rae. It. Doesn't. Matter. I did it because I wanted to, not because I expected anything in return. So relax, and stop worrying about it. Okay? We're friends. It doesn't have to go any further if you don't want it to."

"But you want to try-"

"Honestly, I don't know what I want. All I know is, I care about you, and whether that's as a friend or something else, it doesn't make that much of a difference."

She was silent. He let her be for a while, but it was painful to watch her just sit there and tremble, trying to hold all of her thoughts back.

"Rachel. Please tell me you're okay."

The dark haired girl looked down at her hands. "I'm fine. I have been fine."

"You haven't."

"No, what I mean is..." she took a sharp breath. "I feel better now. For real. I'm just... not used to it. It's not every day you find someone who cares so much."

"Oh I can't help it. You should know that by now."

"I do. That's precisely the reason we're friends, you know. I... I like that about you," she blushed faintly. "That's why you're a surprising person to me. Because you constantly find a way to defy my expectations."

"That's what I'm good at," Garfield chuckled softly.

"Believe me when I say I feel better. Please don't think your efforts have gone to waste or anything. I really appreciate everything. I just... have a hard time showing it."

"No, I get it. I was the same way before. It doesn't just all come out at once. These things take time. I'll be patient with you if that's what you need."

Rachel offered him a brief, tired smile, then sat back. She closed her eyes briefly and slumped. The shadowed lines on her face were back, but this time, her expression was no longer agonized repression, merely that of sheer exhaustion. He couldn't blame her, really. It must have been a long few days for her.

Whereas the darkness of the night had once been perturbed with twisted memory and wretched sensation, this twilight was peaceful. Tranquility set in like the cover of warm blankets over the lull of quiescent sleep. Rachel relaxed. The dark bags under her eyes were still there, but finally - finally - the shadows covering her face were gone. For once, she looked like the heavy burden weighing on her shoulders had been lifted, where sleep came not in wicked nightmare, but instead in peaceful repose.

The dark haired girl struggled to open her eyes again, not wanting to just fall asleep on him, but he shushed her quickly.

"You should sleep. You need it."

Not surprisingly, she didn't protest. Darkness drew deep shadow through her room, lit only by the faint glow of violet light from her bedside lamp. He watched her breathing slow for several minutes, until the thick night faded into the grey limbo of sleep and dreams.

Not wanting to disturb her, Garfield got up slowly and moved to leave. At the last moment, however, a hand reached out and caught his wrist. Her breathy, sleepy voice greeted his ears.

"Stay?"

...

"Of course."

* * *

A/N: So, I was planning to get this out earlier, but then I started doing other things (playing games, writing music, etc.) and it got delayed. Whoops.

One more after this.


	11. Red Carnation

Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Titans

A year and a couple months late. -_-

Some of the scenes are inspired by events from real life, some are totally fiction. I've tried to tie them together, hopefully it turns out well.

* * *

She looked upward.

From the sky, barest white morphs to crystalline droplets, changing again to buds of verdant green cast on cooling winds. Clouds streamed past in rapid motion, accelerated by the flow of time, the cycle of the sun and moon passing swiftly, each day fleeting among the transforming heavens. The clear _drip drip_ of the rain and the soft flow of the wind breathed new life into frigid winter. Cold, perfect ivory gave way to budding green and a new cycle began anew.

Still, she waited.

The march of time continued onward, still in quickened motion. The sky wept its frozen tears, giving way to rays of golden light, then veiled again beneath the grey procession of endless clouds. Day, night, sun and moon, the cycles persisted ceaselessly. It continued, streaming hastily past the violet garden, never waiting, never slowing. Time never waited.

But she did.

They bloomed quickly. Green buds blossomed to violet flowers of myriad hue amidst the bright grass and emerald leaves of ivory. It was a perennial sight, the same year after year when they opened their hearts and graced the world with their color. It had always been the same - it was something she had come to rely on out of habit - but it had never quite felt like this.

Before, they had marked the onset of spring, the world coming to life while she watched and waited. Her dark eyes had always been the observers, and her hands the caretakers, but it had never been her, entwined with the spring and the flowers, blooming in the rain. It had never been about her.

She looked down. Water dripped from her messy locks of dark hair. She closed her eyes, lips held neutral.

Her eyes opened. She looked up again. Her lips curved.

She breathed.

Time stopped.

 _Dawn._

In the midst of the cycle, with the sun and moon in the sky, it suddenly froze in place. Darkness met light, the heavens a patterned patchwork of cloud and sky, night and day joining as one in the tranquil hours of the morning.

Her lips parted. She breathed. There was a spark in her breast, and suddenly she was _aware_ again, of the warmth flooding through her cold fingers, bringing color back to her face and sensation back to her body.

Her eyes drew back down.

It stared at her, the only one out of place. Once nearly the color of blood, it had since brightened to nearly rose pink, flushed cheerily in a sea of luscious mauve. She breathed. Her breast rose and fell, fluttering with the irregular beat of the rain.

Her lips closed. Her eyes followed suit.

She stood, went inside, and closed the door.

* * *

"Rae? Rachel? Hello?"

Garfield waved a hand at the girl across the table, who was currently stirring her pasta with a glazed, unfocused look. She _did_ have a tendency to zone out a lot, but today, it seemed like it was happening more than normal. Something was off about her. Or just... different?

 _I wonder if something's wrong. She doesn't look sad or anything, but with Rae, you can never tell._

Violet eyes shifted back into focus. Rachel looked up, mouth twisted sheepishly.

"Sorry. Was just thinking about how the food wasn't to my taste."

"Heh. Is it ever? You're the pickiest person I've ever met!"

She rolled her eyes. "The sauce is watery, the pasta is mushy, and the chicken is dry."

"Yeah, I know! Meat's so awful, isn't it?"

Rachel snickered. She held a hand over her mouth.

"What, did I say something funny?"

"Nothing." Her eyes were pools of mirth. "You only heard the last part of my sentence."

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry. You know, vegetarian, sometimes get carried away."

"It's fine. It's... actually kind of cute." Her voice trailed off.

"Come again? I didn't hear you."

Rachel wiped her mouth. "Nothing, nothing. I was just thinking that the pasta you made the other day was better than this."

"Hey, I take pride in my cooking. No need to be _so_ surprised."

"I'm not. I'm more surprised that this is so bad."

"Send it back, then."

"They'll probably just mess it up again. Besides, I can just get you to make me a snack when we get to your place."

"Alright, alright. Hey, wait a sec-"

Rachel's lips curved. "I'm just kidding. I'm not that hungry."

"You barely cleared a third of your plate. I thought we went over this. Eating gives you the energy to function like a normal person. You can't just not eat and expect to feel good."

"Then I'll steal some waffles from your freezer."

"But- oh, whatever. Nothing I say ever gets through to you."

She tapped her lips, eyes muted, but not unhappy. He knew that look.

 _You know that's not true._

 _I'm grateful for you. I really am._

There was something else in it, shimmering deep within her eyes, but he wasn't sure what it was.

* * *

"You're not going to get sunburned?"

"Probably not. I do gardening all day in the sun."

"Completely covered up, no skin exposed. Nice tank top, by the way. Solid black, just like the rest of your wardrobe."

She raised her arms and tied her hair back into a ponytail. He stared a little, then turned when she caught him looking. Her face flushed a little as she realized why he had been staring. "I've always been afraid of razors since, you know..."

"Wax?"

"You don't even want to know what people can do with hot wax."

Garfield blanched. "You're right. I don't. Sorry I asked."

"No, sorry, I... this is exactly why I don't like wearing this type of clothing. I mean, just look at my arms..."

He held her wrists. There were marks going everywhere up and down the pale skin, mostly on her upper arms where they would have been easier to hide, though some had still found their way down her forearms and near her wrists. He wondered how many had been self-inflicted.

"Relax. You're not gross, or disgusting, or a freak, or anything. You're beautiful."

She wrinkled her nose. "And you're sappy."

He opened his mouth in retort, but the little smile on her face shut it quickly. He let go of her wrists and reached down to touch his toes. She touched his shoulder lightly.

"Truthfully, there's also never been anyone who has looked at me the way you have."

He stood immediately. "The way I have? Rae, we're just friends."

She tapped his shoulder. "I don't mean romantically. I meant acknowledged as a person. And as, well... a girl."

"Oh. Yeah, I get what you mean. It's 'cause of your dad, isn't it?"

She nodded. "I've always felt like my body was something filthy."

"It's not. Believe me, it's not. I know I've said it before, but I'll say it as many times as you need to hear-"

"You don't. Garfield, I was really surprised, you know. When I first showed you what they did to me, you weren't judgmental about me at all. Most people would at least be a little disgusted, wouldn't they?"

"Come on, Rae. Nobody would be disgusted if they just knew what happened to you."

She frowned. "But at first glance, you'd think-"

"Since when have you cared about stuff like that? What makes you _you_ isn't your body. It's you as a person, Rae. You know that."

Her finger trailed off his shoulder. "I know that," she repeated softly.

She closed her eyes and tilted her face up. Tension ran through her as she stretched, heat added to the warmth of the sunlight beaming down around her. The light itself was unpleasant - she wasn't used to it - but with her eyes closed, she focused only on the warming energy pulsing through her body. Mild heat grew slightly, warm, but not uncomfortable, then to the slightest bit of hot. She relaxed as soon as it reached there, then opened her eyes.

"I could try shaving if you wanted. I might need your help, though. I'm dead scared of blades."

"Then you shouldn't. You don't need to be so hung up on everyone else's idea of beauty, ya know. I'd rather you be yourself. So if you want to, fine, I'd be happy to help. If it's uncomfortable for you, then please don't."

Rachel bent her head down. "You're a good friend." Her voice trailed upward on the last word.

"I try."

It was supposed to be a compliment. It hurt a little, that she only thought of him as a friend, but he could not, would not ruin it by being selfish. If he had to be truthful with himself... _I want it. I really do. But she needs it more. She needs time to heal and I'm the best person to help her, so I can't ruin it._

Garfield shook his head. It was hard in some ways, but it would have been extremely insensitive for him to ignore her needs for a fleeting want of his own.

"So, want to get going?"

Rachel tapped her lips, eyes unreadable. "Sure."

* * *

He was the better sprinter, but she was by far the better long-distance runner. Despite his best efforts, she was still two blocks ahead of him, moving swiftly and gracefully beneath the shadows of the leaves and patterned sunlight. It seemed like she was barely even trying, only the barest sheen of perspiration covering her shoulders and neck.

She glanced backward, then adjusted her pace a little, allowing him to catch up slowly. He felt his legs protest, but pushed himself anyway, working through the burning sensations in his muscles and bridging the gap between them. Up ahead, the traffic light turned red at an intersection and she paused. He caught up shortly after, putting his hands on his knees and panting heavily.

"You're soaked."

Green eyes lifted. "You're... barely sweating at all. You're barely even trying," the words came out between gulps of air. "How do you... even run so fast?"

"Practice."

The light turned green. Rachel started running again, but stopped when Garfield followed too slowly. She turned back and helped him across the street, then knelt down.

"You're really tense."

"I know, I can feel it," Garfield winced as she prodded his calves. "I may have pushed myself too hard."

"I was going too quickly. It was inconsiderate of me."

"Nah, you were fine. It's not your fault I wanted to try catchin' up to you. And I don't wanna make you slow down just for me."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "You're always like this." She stood. "You can't run like that."

"I can hardly walk."

"Sit, then. I could use a break too."

"You don't look that tired-"

"Garfield."

He sat down gingerly on a nearby rock and she followed suit. The blonde haired boy glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, unsure of what to expect. She was looking downward, her face an expressionless mask, eyes a little weary, but without any other sign of sadness. It occurred to him that with her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, he was able to see more of her face than he ever had before - all the finely structured contours of her pale skin, the ridges of her brows shadowing her eyes, the sallow curves of her cheeks flowing down to her lips and pixie chin.

Garfield looked downward. He had never seen her wear such form-fitting clothes before, but perhaps this was her way of trying to open up a little more. Her torso was sleek and slender, her breasts perhaps a little small, but not unattractive. Her arms were surprisingly well-muscled; perhaps she looked the same underneath.

He shook his head. Green eyes stared toward ivory skin.

The scars came into focus. Again he was reminded that the healing process was slow, and perhaps some wounds were irrevocable, that they would never disappear, that they would always lurk inside her no matter how much time passed. Each scar was a story, each ridge a lash of the whip or the slash of a knife. Some were the result of blows of clubs, and still others were burn marks. It made his blood itch, thinking about the branding iron he had seen in some of her paintings.

He looked a little upward again, to the slope of her shoulders. It had been his own hands, squeezing her, bruising her, hurting her...

Garfield looked away. She was right about herself after all. It was a little disgusting, looking at her like that. Not because of the way she looked - a little plain, but not unattractive - but because it was an exhibit of all the nightmares physically carved into her flesh that she had to carry forever.

 _I can't look at her like that. She's pretty, but... I just can't. It feels awful. Rae's not just a body to be used or abused. She's a person. A damn good one at that. It's about what's inside her, not what's on the outside._

She looked up. "It's okay to look at me like that, you know. I know I chastised you for it before, but even I like to know that I'm not completely revolting."

"It wasn't because of that," he replied quickly - a little too quickly.

She raised an eyebrow. Garfield held his hands up.

"I like checkin' girls out, you know that. Only problem with you is all the scars. It's just really unsettling."

She looked down again.

"No, no no. That came out wrong. It's not like it's something wrong with you. And it doesn't make you ugly either. I think you're cute, I really do. What I meant was I just can't help but keep thinking about, you know, what they must have done to you to leave those marks on you."

"A lot of things." She sighed. "See, I told you. I'm revolting."

"You look fine-"

"You know what I mean by that."

"Yes, but- well..." He looked at her again. "Yeah. When it look at you, it makes my skin crawl. You know why."

She nodded.

"But you also remind me that people like us... we suffer, and we get hurt, and sometimes the universe is just out to get us... but we keep fighting back. We never give up."

"I've given up plenty of times."

"If you really gave up, you wouldn't be here right now."

She opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She shut it. He continued.

"So when I look at you, I'm also reminded how strong people can be. You're the toughest, bravest person I've ever met."

She smiled. It touched her cheeks, but didn't reach her eyes. "I have to confess, I wore this outfit today because I'm tired of feeling disgusted by my own body."

 _She's changing the subject, like usual. Oh well._ "You're hardly showing any skin. That's a normal outfit for jogging. Actually, no, most people wear shorts."

"It's a lot for me. You know it takes time."

"It takes a lot of little steps, I get that. I'm just glad that you're trusting me to help you with those steps."

"Who else could I trust?" She intoned breathlessly. "You talk about how I'm so understanding and empathetic, but what about yourself? It's not every day that someone else is sensitive and attentive enough to really _get_ me. You've even learned to read a lot of my mannerisms. Nobody's ever done that before."

"Like how when you stay silent, it means I get to keep talking? Or when you look at me, it could either mean go on, or to shut up? Or like how you fidget with your hair when you're nervous, and if you have a finger anywhere near your face for a while, it means you're thinking."

"You know me."

"Don't get me wrong, there's still a lot of stuff that I can't tell about you. But I've been through something like what you went through. I didn't have it nearly as bad, but I can sort of understand how you feel. That's why I try so hard with you."

She bent her head and smiled. It still didn't reach her eyes, but her face was a little brighter than before. "Garfield, can I be honest with you?"

"Of course you can."

"Do you know why I try to wait for you?"

"To torture me by staying just within my line of sight, but just far enough so that I have to strain really hard to try and catch up?"

Rachel snickered. Garfield laughed too.

"Nah, I don't really know. Share your thoughts?"

"You haven't realized it? I wait for you because I like your company, Gar. It makes me feel a little less alone."

"Really? I thought you liked being alone."

"Not every waking moment of my life. That gets lonely."

"And out of everyone in the world, you chose me to spend time with."

"It's more like you chose me."

"True that."

Rachel's lips curved. This time, her eyes sparkled. It was fleeting; he didn't catch sight of it, but something about her face and posture was different as she stood. She rolled her shoulders and breathed slowly, carefully. Her skin glowed, not the pasty alabaster it had once been, but flush and gleaming with color in the patchwork shadow beneath the trees.

"How are your legs?"

"I'll be fine if I go slow. You go on ahead for now."

She shook her head. "Let's go slowly then. I don't want to leave you behind."

"But- oh, whatever. If it's what you want."

She nodded. _You stayed for me. You showed me that friends look out for each other, right? So I'll do the same for you. Besides, I rather like your company. So don't look at me like I'm always doing you favors, Gar. I'm willing to do all these things with you because... I actually do like you._

Rachel frowned and put a finger to her lips. _I do, don't I?_

* * *

"What was your relationship like with your parents?"

"Mom and dad? They were alright."

The dark-haired girl knelt and lifted a flower off the ground. She smoothed out its petals gently, put it back, then added another pair on top of it. "Just alright?"

"I mean, they were my folks. Not the greatest people in the world, not my greatest role models or anything, but still my family. It'd be weird not to care about your family, right? Well, maybe not your dad."

"Or your uncle."

"Yeah. Him." He knelt as well, placing the usual white rose at the feet of two gravestones. "I miss them. Don't get me wrong, we weren't _that_ close, probably not the way you and your mom were. Still eats me up inside all the time, though."

"That's only natural. You'd have to be pretty emotionally detached to not feel anything at all toward them."

"Are you sad that your mom's gone?"

She fixed her dark eyes on him. "A little."

"Only a little?"

She walked away. Her footsteps trailed toward her mother's grave at first, then she decided better of it and shifted toward a tree near the center of the graveyard. She sat at the foot of it, gazing at the clouds drifting through the sky.

"I don't know how I feel sometimes. Emotions are complicated."

"You're telling me. I'm surprised you feel that way, though. You always seem to be able to read me so well."

"It's not that I can't read them. It's just that I can't put how I feel into words. I can't express it."

"You do seem to have trouble expressing yourself most of the time. I worry about that."

"I wonder why." Her tone was biting, acrid, but trembled with mirth too. "Lighten up a little. We didn't come here to have another therapy session for me. I'm not a porcelain doll either. You don't need to worry about every little thing that might be wrong with me."

"Just sayin' that I care."

"I know you do, Garfield. But please understand. My whole life, I've always been trapped. First it was my father, then it was the masked man... then they left, and I guess..." her lips parted - she ran a finger over them. "I guess I never even tried to recover. I just holed myself up and let myself go. I don't want to be like that anymore..."

"But you've always had trouble changing on your own."

Rachel nodded. "So I need your help. I really appreciate that you care about me, but I need your help, not only your worry. Please, Gar."

He was beside her in a moment. "I'll help. I promise." Garfield held a hand out to her.

She took it - they rose. They walked together.

Violet eyes fixated downward, toward the engraved stone wreathed with a crown of mauve petals. There was a pang in her heart - she clutched it with one hand and squeezed with the other. Dark eyes fluttered as she felt a squeeze back.

She breathed a long, low breath. Her chest rose. She let go of the hold.

Around them, the stagnant air breathed as well. She held her arms out and let the wind stream through her clothes, her hair, all around her body. Up in the sky, clouds surged by as well, sweeping across the vast, endless expanse of the clear azure of the heavens. Between, a mix of radiant sunlight and soft mist fell downward, the oddest mixture of cooling water and warming light precipitating toward the earth.

Her face came to life. Sensation returned to her - it had never been so vibrant before.

There were so many colors. The sky was a patchwork of blues between the ivory clouds - emerald and verdigris leaves floated on the wind - mauve-toned petals joined them in their aetherial dance. It smelled of spring, the fragrance of fresh buds and flower scents mixed with the musk of rain. The texture on her skin was cool and warm at once, rain mixed with sunlight, the cold petals contrasting with the heat radiating from the person beside her. The water tasted clear and fresh, cleanly falling in small _drip drips_ between the leaves and the dark frond of her hair. She listened. There was the wind, the softly singing wind as it streamed past her ears, but there was something else. A rhythm? It fluttered as well, more rhythmic than the temperamental flow of air around her, but slightly off-beat, as if it were unsure of itself.

She put a hand to her breast.

 _Why do I feel like this? What am I feeling?_

Her face dropped again. _I'm so confused._

Her hand moved. She sought something - it took her a moment to find it, but it was there. _He_ was there.

She let out her breath. Her chest fell.

She frowned.

 _It's not just me. It's him too? He's confused?_

 _No... he's conflicted. He's... not sure how to feel about me. I understand..._

 _I'm selfish. I'm too selfish._

 _I need to care about myself sometimes._

 _He wants more._

 _I can't do it, though._

 _Why not?_

 _I'm... not ready._

 _Why? You like him._

 _Not like that._

 _Are you sure?_

Rachel frowned. She turned. "Garfield."

"Yes?"

"I just had a thought. I want your opinion. What's the difference between close friends and people in a relationship?"

His eyebrows rose for a fraction of a second. His grip tightened a little bit as well.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"No, I do, I just have to think for a second. I'm not really sure..."

"There _is_ a difference, isn't there?"

"There is. I'm not sure how to explain it. It's not something I can just show you. Like not something I can grab, or..."

"Not something tangible."

"Right. Good friends are like, you know, people you can be open with, people who are willing to support you no matter what happens, people you can say almost anything you want to. Of course, if you're just an asshole, obviously you won't really be making friends like that-"

"Mhmm, we're talking about people like us. I should hope that we're not 'assholes'. Well at least you."

"You're not either. A bit difficult sometimes, but we've all got our faults."

"Yes, let's not get into that now."

"Yeah. So, friends. There's even the whole friends with benefits thing, so it's not really that either. I guess maybe the difference would be commitment?"

"That doesn't sound like it's quite it."

"It's not," he nodded. "I might be like this. So say there's this line, and if you cross the line, you're in a relationship, and if you don't then you're just friends. I was thinking, sometimes, it might that you crossed the line, but you don't even know it. Your relationship doesn't feel any different than before, but one day, you look back and think about it, and suddenly realize that you actually did cross that line a while ago, and that it's not just a friendship anymore. It's something even more special. Thing is, you don't know exactly where that line is. You only know after you cross it."

"It doesn't always work like that."

"Right, sometimes people just announce that they're dating or whatever, and that's that. I guess I'm talking more about when you meet someone that you really click with but you aren't sure if you're just going to be friends or not. Or, basically, if it's going to be something special, or it's going to be _that_ kind of special relationship. You get me?"

"You aren't sure if you're going to be friends or a couple."

"Right. So I'm thinking that you'll know if you're at the 'couple' status, but you won't know exactly when you reached there. I know it's got to be something more special than a friendship, but I don't it's as cut and dry as flipping a switch and saying 'now we're a couple'."

Rachel frowned. _I think he's right. Then..._

"Where do you think we're at right now?"

"... what?"

"Or, maybe..." her voice was incredibly soft. "The better question might be, where do you want us to be?"

"I want us to be friends."

"You can't lie to me, Gar."

"I'm not. I'm telling the truth and you know that."

"You are telling half of the truth and omitting the rest."

He groaned. "Well, what do _you_ want?"

"I asked first."

The blonde-haired boy raised a finger and opened his mouth.

He closed it.

"I want us to be friends."

"I see. Suppose I wanted more?"

"Then I'd be okay with that."

She stepped closer. "You'd like it a lot."

"I would."

She drew yet closer. "You've been thinking about it."

"I have."

Face to face, if he leaned forward just a little they would have touched. "Garfield. Am I hurting you?"

"No?"

"But I'm frustrating, right?"

"No. I want us to be friends. Romantic relationship stuff complicates things anyway."

"Does it really? Then why do people get together-"

"Because they want to enjoy the company of someone they care about. Because... they want to be together." His answer was quick, too quick.

"They want to see each other and they don't want to be apart."

"Yeah."

She stepped back, folding her arms over her chest. "And are we at that stage?"

"Sorta. I mean, I know I want to see you. It's not just to help you, I really think you're just an awesome person in a lot of ways. I can't speak for you, though-"

"I don't want you to leave me," Rachel replied breathlessly. "I want to keep being surprised by you. I want to talk to someone who understands. But I also don't want to hurt you."

"You're not hurting me."

"You don't have a girlfriend-"

"Rachel." His voice was firm, but gentle. "Some guys, or, I guess, most single guys our age are lookin' for girlfriends, yeah. And when we meet someone we really like, it only makes sense to go after 'em."

"I know that. But as for being single?"

"It sucks. It's not just the, well, things you do in bed and stuff, it's just... you know, being alone. At least for me, my other friends aren't exactly the same. Like Vic and Rich, they're great guys and they're always lookin' out for me, but we just don't talk about our feelings with each other. Not the same heart to heart stuff I have with you. Other part of it is like, everyone else has girlfriends, and if I'm here, just sittin' around, still single, I have to wonder if there's something wrong with me. Am I ugly?"

"No. Absolutely not."

"Then stupid?"

"A little absent-minded, but no."

"Do I smell bad?"

"Only if you forget deodorant."

"Heh. But yeah. It sucks."

"I'm sorry."

Garfield shrugged. "Don't apologize. I said all that, but this is different. Me being single doesn't take priority over your mental health, Rae. That would be _so_ selfish. I can't do that to you."

"If it doesn't work out, we can just go back to being friends."

"Trust me. It doesn't always work out that cleanly. I couldn't live with myself if I ruined our friendship."

"But what if I want it?"

"Then I would be happy to oblige. But only if you really feel like you're ready. Just please don't feel bad if we're just friends. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that."

Rachel nodded. "I know what you're going to say. I've had many counselors tell me this too. I need to be selfish too. I need to care for my own well being."

"You really do."

"I've been told that before, but you're the first person to make me really _want_ to put my life back together. Gar, I just..."

"Shh, shh, you don't have to say it. I know you don't like touching, but want a hug?"

She shook her head, but inched her hand toward his. He obliged and she interlocked her fingers with his, squeezing lightly. He squeezed back. He looked at her. Her eyes were half-closed in a content lull, face utterly expressionless. It seemed like she had withdrawn herself into the confines of her mind, not as a defense mechanism, but in quiet repose, almost like she was meditating.

Around them, the sky darkened. Warm sunlight gave way to cool rain, the little droplets of mist turning into streams of pristine water. Rachel took a long, deep breath, inhaling the scent of the fresh rain. New life washed over them, green leaves and violet flowers, blossoming buds and grey headstones.

She let out her breath. A moment later, her hand twitched at the sound of distant thunder disrupting the pitter-patter of the rain. Their eyes met.

"We'd better head back."

"Okay."

* * *

They sat on her couch by the window, staring out at the deepening twilight. The soft, slow rhythm of the rain rang gently against the glass, broken only by the occasional clap of thunder in the distance. Rachel's eyes drifted around, from the dimly lit paintings scattered around her living room, to her hands, to the greying skies, to the finely carved features of Garfield's face.

She looked down, then back.

He was utterly focused on the rain, his usual bubbly energy now held in trance by the droplets suspended on the glass. He was so still that he might have been a statue, but the occasional stroke of his fingers over her hand told her otherwise.

Ordinarily, she would have pulled away and chastised him for it, but he was hardly even paying any attention to her - it was a reflexive movement, no more. Somehow, that thought was comforting. She leaned in.

 _He really is full of surprises, isn't he? One moment he's full of energy, dragging me here and there, constantly talking and trying to cheer me up, and the next moment he's just sitting here quietly, admiring the rain. He turns it on and off so quickly. He changes so quickly... I really never know what to expect from him. It's quite refreshing. It... helps me change as well._

She shifted over. He still didn't move.

 _He's warm. He's always been warm, even though he has been through just as much as I have. He's always been warm to me... even with my attitude toward him. I should be grateful. I am grateful. It's just..._

She hesitated. It was unfamiliar territory. Even when she had escaped, even after Trigon had been locked up for good, it had never felt natural for her to have any physical contact with anyone else. _Even touching other people... ugh. And forget about emotional intimacy. I've never broken down like that before, not even when mom... when she died... or even when Slade used me, I never left myself vulnerable like that._

 _But with him..?_

 _I left myself completely open to him, and he didn't take advantage of me. He really, really tried to help._

 _We've already gotten there, so what's the problem with being a little closer?_

She inched her way toward him, but still hesitated. It didn't feel natural. Of course it didn't. _It was weird the first time he came to me, asking for flowers. It was weird when he came back to help me. It was weird that he kept pursuing me persistently, and strange that we got closer after we had that little fight._

 _This isn't that weird in comparison. Besides, I have to learn to change, just like he does._

She rested her head on his shoulder.

Surprised at the sudden contact, Garfield tore his stare away from the window. He looked down, met only with Rachel's mop of dark hair and the sleek curve of her chin beneath the silken locks. He reached a hand toward her head, then stopped.

"It's okay. You can touch me."

 _She's acting weird. She was so stubborn about me not touchin' her before... oh. Is this her way of sayin' she trusts me?_

He put a hand on her head and ruffled her hair, marveling at its softness. He felt her pull away a little on reflex, but she caught herself in the movement and leaned in even closer. He put an arm around her shoulder and flinched - she was cold, as usual, but he had plenty of heat to share.

Her eyes were closed beneath the delicate curve of her brows.

"He likes me," her lips barely moved.

He heard it, but with how soft her voice was, it was impossible to tell whether she was expecting a response or not.

"He's waiting for an answer. Yes or no, both are fine. He is willing to accept either." Her eyes opened a sliver, violet sparkling in the grey-hued ambient.

 _She's thinking aloud on purpose._

"I don't know how to feel. I've never changed so much in such a short period of time. It's... frightening. But also stimulating. I feel strange. I'm not an open person, and I'm not expressive either."

He nodded very slightly at that. Her chin pressed into his shoulder a little more.

"I thought that leaving myself open to him would end up breaking me. Letting him into my mind, letting him know how I feel, actually _showing_ it to him... it felt so weird. It was so stressful. I thought I would lose my mind. I was afraid... I've never been able to really trust anyone..."

She sighed.

"But after it was done, I _did_ feel better. I left myself open for once, and it felt _good_ to be comforted. It's like now. Being close like this. Part of me feels revolted. Part of me is deathly afraid. But once I forced myself to get over it... it's actually fine. It feels nice."

Her eyes opened. She put a hand on his chest.

"The last person that... that I actually cuddled with like this... was my mother." She let out a long, low breath. "And now here you are." She shook her head. "I never thought I would be able to trust someone like this ever again."

"As cheesy as it sounds, I'm tellin' ya, you can trust me. But, Rae, you should take it slow too. I know you wanna change and get over what happened to ya, but it won't come quickly. You can't just rush into it."

She nodded. "I know. I'm forcing myself-"

"I know you need to. But you can't force yourself too hard either. You say you like being close to me, but I can still feel you trying to pull away sometimes."

"It's a reflex." Rachel sat up, brushing her hair out of her face. "Physical contact has always been revolting to me, but it's a big part of how normal people communicate."

"You don't need to be normal. Not for my sake, not for anyone else's. You should be only if you want to be."

"I don't want to be stuck the way I am."

"I get that, believe me I do. But you gotta take it slow. You say you trust me, and I'm tellin' you you can, but you gotta let it happen little by little."

She nodded. "And you're okay with that."

"I can be patient."

"Really?" Skepticism.

"Really. I have been so far. I've proven it to you."

She pursed her lips. "I don't like to rush things."

"As much as you might not believe me, I don't either."

"No, I do believe you. You're headstrong and impulsive, but when it comes to these things, I really do believe that you don't like rushing blindly into friendships and relationships."

"I've been burned too many times to keep being like that. You obviously get that."

"So you'll be patient with me?"

"I will."

"You... will wait for me?"

"I... what?"

"My answer."

"To?"

Rachel wrapped her arms around herself. She chanted a few meditative words under her breath, keeping her eyes closed.

"He likes me."

She held his hands, squeezing a little.

"He wants it to be more. But, he is okay with whatever my answer is."

Garfield swallowed hard.

"He is okay with waiting. But I don't want to keep him waiting too long."

"Take... your time." His voice wavered. He cleared his throat. "I said I would be patient. I want to be patient."

"I have been indecisive and cold for so long. I can't be like this forever."

Her eyes opened.

"I need to give him an answer. He said either answer is fine."

"I meant it."

"Did you?"

"I still mean it. I told you it before, and I'll say it as many times as I need to. Your mental health is more important than something silly like our relationship status. I want... no, I _need_ you to be well. I can't watch you suffer, and I definitely won't be a cause of it. So please, Rae, be selfish and worry about yourself first."

She smiled. It reached her eyes.

* * *

 _He's waiting for me._

The days passed quietly between sunshine and rain, scattered thunder and flowing clouds. The flower buds bloomed and wilted in one cycle, grew again, then wilted again as spring ran its course.

She drifted around her garden, still garbed in solid black, still hidden away from the world, still cold and inexpressive, but no longer alone.

Life marched on. He passed by with friends, short-lived dates, sometimes alone, and each time, she either wasn't there or would only offer a few, brief words in greeting if she was working in the garden.

He cast a longing glance each time, and each time, it was harder and harder to tear himself away. But she needed time.

Time.

It ran its course, and with the brightening days came the most vibrant of colors from her garden, from delicate lavenders to luscious orchids and vibrant fuchsia. In the midst of it all, the one red flower raised its head, painted brightly with scarlet and rose, full with life and vivaciousness.

He waited.

He waited.

...

They waited.

...

Time ran its course.

The other flowers bloomed and wilted, then bloomed again. She waited and waited. No more words were needed. It was only a matter of finding her heart. It was only a matter of knowing what she wanted. It wasn't something that could be forced.

Turmoil and chaos were the memories of the past haunting the dreams of the present. Indecision, uncertainty, change. She held them all in her breath, then let them go. But, in the second breath, they returned.

 _I just... don't know. It hasn't clicked yet. I still don't know what I'm doing._

She pruned the violet and green leaves, the motion robotic and perfunctory. Mauve eyes drifted toward the center of her garden, but drifted back swiftly. She left it alone. It was still there, standing proudly as a point of bright carmine amongst a sea of amethyst and emerald. Still, the petals were closed, sealed tightly against one another.

...

She breathed, and the heavens shifted. Hot sunlight met cold rain. Day and night passed with the blink of an eye.

She breathed and the flowers bloomed. She let it out and they wilted. Time slipped through her fingers.

He passed by, alone, and they exchanged a few words. He never stopped caring, but she needed time and space.

The pieces of her shattered psyche came together with each breath, and slipped through her fingers with the next. Time and space flowed by her in plenty, each day passing with each fleeting thought, the heavens and earth flying past her in perpetual, unrelenting motion.

She closed her eyes.

It stopped.

She breathed. The familiar images formed in her head. The masked man, poised on canvas, half orange, half black, part rage, part death. All dead.

The demon's eyes, slits of crimson framed by shaggy, white hair. Trigon, the devil in a man's skin, seething wrath and twisted pride personified. As far as she was concerned, gone as well.

They faded.

Dark hair and white cloak, the slim form of Arella. _Mother._

She held her hands out, eyes still closed. The figure did the same.

 _Rachel. Be free. Forgive, and be free._

 _Forgive?_

 _Forgive. Yourself. Forget them. Let it go._

The image swirled in her head, white and black melding together. Arella's face disappeared behind the hood and suddenly it was distorted, cloak spreading into wings, hood forming the gentle slope of a beak. It split and spread, ravens taking flight into a boundless expanse of white. They floated away, rising and rising, flying, soaring into the white heavens.

She breathed.

She opened her eyes.

She stood.

She moved.

It bloomed.

Violet eyes regarded the bright flower curiously. She knelt beside it, a pensive smile working its way onto her face. _Forgive and forget. Move on._

The march of time stopped. She held it still, keeping the flower in full bloom. It was a perfect shade of rose, deeply hued, but bright simultaneously, glistening with moisture between the intricate patterns and delicate textures.

...

She clipped it.

* * *

Twilight encroached upon the fading sun. He looked out the window, alone, then put his chin on his hand.

Patience hurt like a salted wound, but the alternative was far worse. So he waited, staring at the dying sun. On the horizon, it dipped halfway below, colored with marigold and cherry, gloriously hued on the day's eve. Night approached quickly.

He shook his head, half of mind to go out and join his friends, half of mind to stay put and think. He breathed fully and deeply as the sun dropped below darkness's border.

...

The doorbell rang.

He frowned, confused. Richard, Victor, and Kori had just left, but maybe one of them had forgotten something?

He shuffled toward the door and opened it.

She was standing there, violet eyes sparkling. Her voice was breathless as she called his name.

"Gar... you know what this means, right?"

He looked down - in her outstretched hands, a flower gleamed back brightly at him.

"Well?"

"Rae..." he shook his head, laughing softly. Tears streamed down his face. "Yes. Yes to that, and yes to what you're about to say."

She carefully set the flower aside, then wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. He kissed her on the forehead, heart soaring into the heavens as he held her close.

Above, in the night sky, the rising moon cast ivory light on the rose petals of the red carnation.


End file.
